The man bent down and lifted Aaryan into his arms, as though cradling something infinitely fragile. There was no rush in his movements—only quiet reverence, the kind one shows not to the living or the dead, but to something sacred. His robes fluttered gently in the air, untouched by the chaos still lingering in the wind.

His eyes swept over the shattered battlefield. Jagged cracks veined the cliffside, and the land was scorched black in places, as if the earth itself had bled. Craters pitted the stone, and pools of dried blood dotted the ground like dark flowers. The air still carried the lingering echo of pain, of fury, of something unnatural unleashed.

A faint furrow creased his brow.

And then—he vanished.

The cliff fell silent once more. No birds, no wind, no whisper of breath. Only the raw, broken land bore witness to what had transpired.

Far away—high above, in the heart of a cloud-wreathed mountain range—the man appeared again. He stood suspended in the sky before a mountain that seemed to shoulder the heavens themselves. Its peak vanished into endless mist, and the pressure radiating from it could crush lesser cultivators into dust.

Without ceremony, he lifted a hand.

A section of the mountain face exploded—not with violence, but with quiet precision. The debris dissolved into sparkling dust mid-air, and where once was unbroken stone now stood a smooth, spacious cave. With a second motion, the man conjured a stone bed from the ground, its surface polished and shaped in an instant.

Still holding Aaryan, he stepped inside.

He laid Aaryan down upon it with the same care one would give to placing a sleeping child upon silk. The stone adjusted itself with a soft hum, curving slightly to support Aaryan's battered form. The man's touch lingered for a heartbeat longer than caution allowed. Fingers brushed dark hair away from a bruised forehead.

Then he withdrew a small object from within his robes.

A pill—small, crystalline, and glowing faintly. Its surface shimmered like starlight trapped in amber, and faint symbols seemed to float within it, shifting with every angle. The air around it thrummed with ancient power.

He slipped it between Aaryan's cracked lips.

A jade tablet, palm-sized and veined with runes, appeared in his hand next. He shattered it without hesitation. Instantly, a ripple of energy reached towards the void and then vanished following which an invisible formation sealed the cave, isolating them from the world. The temperature stabilized. The air thickened with spiritual energy.

Only then did he reach into his ring and retrieve a cloth—soft, white, unmarked.

He could have cleansed Aaryan's wounds with a gesture.

He didn't.

Instead, he knelt by the bed and began to clean the blood with trembling hands. Each stroke of the cloth was gentle. Painstaking. As though scrubbing away the cruelty the world had inflicted. His sleeves soaked in red. His breathing grew uneven.

Then, silently, a single tear fell.

It struck Aaryan's collarbone and vanished without a sound.

But in that drop lay the weight of everything unspoken.

🔱 — ✵ — 🔱

Outside the cave, the air rippled.

There was no sound. No shift of wind. No pulse of power. And yet, space itself seemed to fold inward, the fabric of the world disturbed by a silent presence.

A maiden in flowing azure robes appeared atop a nearby ledge, her silhouette barely registering against the mountainside. If one did not look directly at her, she might as well have not been there at all. Her steps made no sound. Her presence gave off no Qi. Even the mountain mist parted respectfully as it touched her form.

A thin veil covered her face, hiding all but her eyes—eyes that shimmered like stars lost in the deepest part of night, calm yet endlessly distant. They flickered with ancient knowledge, and a trace of uncertainty.

In the next moment, she vanished.

When she reappeared, she was inside the cave, standing quietly behind Sampoorna.

She said nothing at first. Her gaze locked onto the scene before her—a moment that pierced through the image she held of the man before her.

Sampoorna.

The coldest sword under the heavens. A man whose name alone made sects tremble and empires bow. It was said he once wiped out a bloodthirsty clan without unsheathing his blade. A man who never flinched, never pitied, and never spared.

Yet here he was, kneeling.

A cloth stained red in one hand. A palm gently wiping dirt and blood from the broken body of an unconscious boy. Not with spiritual energy. Not with an array or a spell. But with his own hands.

Her heart trembled.

"...Is he…?" she asked softly, hesitation laced in every word.

Sampoorna did not turn.

He continued wiping a smear of blood from Aaryan's shoulder with care usually reserved for sacred relics.

"Yes," he said.

The single word struck her like thunder.

Her breath hitched, and something sharp rose in her throat. "Who did this?"

"Don't know." Sampoorna's tone remained flat. "When I reached… everyone was dead."

A moment passed. Then he added, "I already gave him the Vein-Waking Heaven Pill."

Her eyes widened behind the veil. "You used that pill?"

"I had to." He paused, then said with rare gravity, "But it's not enough. His injuries are too severe. Nearly every meridian is shattered. Internal organs torn. Bones cracked like dry wood. To stabilize his foundation, we'll need the Heavenly Root Rebirth Pill… and the Boneforge Divine Essence."

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

She inhaled sharply. "Those two?"

Her fingers clenched at her sides.

Then, quietly: "Are you certain he's our Young Master? After all these centuries, we only ever retrieved three of the divine pills. The Vein-Waking Heaven Pill was the only one that could preserve someone standing on death's edge with only a breath left. You've already used it. If he isn't the heir… and the real one appears later, and he needs them—"

"I'm certain."

Sampoorna's voice interrupted her, low but unshakable.

"I felt it."

He set the bloodied cloth aside and rested his palm lightly against Aaryan's chest.

"I felt the aura of Calavorys's bloodline—the one I swore to protect in this lifetime and the next. When I followed that trail of power to its source… I found him. Surrounded by corpses. Collapsed. Unconscious. But alive."

"But what if—"

"Maya."

Her name cracked through the air like a whip.

Sampoorna turned for the first time. His eyes, cold as an endless winter, locked onto hers.

An oppressive pressure erupted from him, crashing into her like a tidal wave. Even though she was a cultivator who stood near the apex of the world, her knees nearly buckled. The cave trembled, dust falling from the ceiling.

"I told you—he is our Young Master. He needs those pills now. If I'm wrong… then I will find all three divine pills again myself. Even if it takes me another thousand years."

His voice dropped lower. "And if I fail—then I'll offer my head to the true heir."

Silence.

The aura vanished as swiftly as it had come, and the air stilled once more.

Maya lowered her gaze, her lips parting slightly. She said nothing for a long moment.

Then, with a soft sigh, she raised her hand.

A flick of her wrist, graceful and precise. Her jade-like fingers gleamed under the spiritual light.

Two crystal vials appeared in her palm.

One glowed with seven colours, constantly shifting—crimson, gold, indigo, emerald, silver, obsidian, and pearl. Inside it, a single pill floated, releasing a fragrance that seemed to calm the soul. The Heavenly Root Rebirth Pill, forged from the heart of a dying divine tree, whose roots spanned dimensions.

The other vial contained something stranger. Mist swirled within, and in that mist, ethereal shapes flickered—coiling dragons, weeping phoenixes, towering trees that split the clouds, and temples built atop stars. The Boneforge Divine Essence, known in ancient times to remould bone and sinew until even the heavens could not deny their strength.

Her gaze lingered on Sampoorna. She remembered the last time his voice had shaken like that—on the night, when they fled like dogs while their masters fought to give them a way out.

Without a word, she handed both vials to Sampoorna.

He took them with steady hands and uncorked the first.

The seven-coloured pill slid past Aaryan's lips and dissolved instantly. His body shuddered. Golden light burst across his skin, flooding through his veins, illuminating the torn meridians like rivers being reborn.

Then came the second pill.

As the misty essence entered him, the divine creatures inside seemed to let out a final cry before vanishing into Aaryan's chest. His bones cracked audibly. Muscles rippled beneath the skin. Every fibre of him trembled as if on the edge of metamorphosis.

A blinding light engulfed him, and for thirty breaths, the entire cave pulsed with sacred brilliance. Then, slowly, the light faded.

Sampoorna didn't move.

He sat back down beside Aaryan once more, as he had before.

Took out another fresh cloth.

And, again, began to wipe away the remaining blood and grime—quietly, steadily, with hands far more delicate than the legends would ever speak of.

As though he were cleaning not just a body… but restoring something the world had tried to destroy.

Outside the sealed cave, the wind howled across the mountains.

Inside, nothing stirred but the man, the boy, and the promise that now tethered them both.

🔱 — ✵ — 🔱

Maya's gaze lingered on Sampoorna's hands—steady, unhurried, reverent.

He moved with the quiet care of someone tending to more than flesh, and the weight of that truth pressed into her chest. She sighed softly, then shut her eyes.

For a long breath, the cave was still.

When she opened them again, the hesitation was gone.

Sampoorna was right.

Even if the pills were rare enough to spark war among ancient sects… even if they had only acquired three after centuries of blood and sacrifice… they weren't worth a single hair from their Young Master's head. If he truly bore Calavorys's blood, then it was better to wager on belief than be shackled by doubt.

Because if Sampoorna was wrong, there might still be a path forward. However narrow, however bloodstained, the path to regaining the divine pills could still be walked again.

But if she was wrong…

No amount of regret would ever be enough.

She stepped forward and lowered herself onto the other side of the bed, the motion graceful but deliberate. Her hand rose, and with a flick of her fingers, a pale cotton cloth appeared—snow-white, threaded with filaments of silver, faintly shimmering under the glow of the spirit lamp.

She dipped it into a conjured bowl of water and began to clean the grime from Aaryan's arm.

"It's softer than yours," she murmured, just loud enough. "This cloth was spun from Cloudsilk worms raised on Moonpetal dew for a hundred years. Yours looks like it came from the sleeve of a mountain priest."

Sampoorna didn't respond.

Or rather—he did.

A breath, barely there, curved one corner of his lips. Faint. Fleeting. Most would have missed it. Most would have thought he hadn't even heard.

But Maya knew.

That was the most anyone could get from him. The only ones who'd seen more were their Master… and his blood.

They sat in silence, tending to Aaryan with quiet, deliberate care. They wiped away every trace of blood, every speck of dirt, not with spells or Qi, but with their own hands. Out of respect. Out of devotion. Out of something older than loyalty.

Eventually, Sampoorna slid an arm beneath Aaryan's back and the other under his legs, lifting him with practiced ease. Aaryan's body, though slowly healing, was still fragile—more bone than breath. Yet Sampoorna carried him as if the boy were made of glass dreams.

Maya waved her hand, and the blood-smeared bed shimmered clean.

Sampoorna gently laid Aaryan back down and began to remove what remained of his ruined clothing. The robes came away easily, shredded and stained, falling beside the bed in silence.

He reached for a folded set of fresh inner-circle robes—deep grey, threaded with faint silver spirals.

Then Maya's voice, quiet but sharp, cut through the moment.

"Wait."

She was staring.

Sampoorna followed her gaze—and froze.

There, just below the nape of Aaryan's neck, stretching across the upper back, was a fractured sigil. It wasn't inked. It wasn't painted. It was woven into him, glimmering just beneath the skin, as if forged from memory and light.

It formed a third of a circle, open on one side—an unfinished arc, like a door waiting to be closed.

They did not blend, these symbols. They bled into one another gently, like dancers brushing hands—touching but never fusing. Between them were invisible boundaries, yet no resistance.

The outer edge of the sigil was ringed with ancient runes—tiny, near invisible at first glance. But if stared at for too long, they began to move. Slowly. Purposefully. Like the ticking of a clock made from blood and fate.

And with every subtle shift, a faint pulse emanated outward.

A heartbeat.

A warning.

"This…" Maya whispered.

Sampoorna replied, eyes narrowed. "It's a seal."

He leaned in closer, inspecting the symbols. His brows drew tight as he traced one of the shimmering runes with his eyes, lips pressing into a thin line.

"I've never seen this before," he muttered. "Not in the Tomb of Scrolls. Not in the Seven Libraries. Not in the ruins beneath Cael'tharas. Whatever this is… it's not of this era."

Maya tilted her head, unsettled. "Then what is it?"

Sampoorna didn't answer right away. His eyes lingered on the fractured curve—the open edge of the circle.

"I don't know," he admitted. "But one thing is certain—whatever this is, it's ancient. The kind of ancient that predates what any of us might know, maybe if master was here…he would have known but for us…."

He looked down at Aaryan, and this time, his lips curled—not just in amusement, but in something deeper. Pride. Wonder. Maybe even the faint stirrings of awe.

"There is something else as well, something living, hidden deep. Even I am able to only feel it vaguely."

"Is it dangerous?" Maya asked anxiously.

"Doesn't seem so. It's just there."

"Well, Young Master," he murmured, voice low and fond, "it seems you've been busy. To come back to us carrying power even I can't recognize… you must've had quite the lucky encounter, hm?"

He reached forward and tugged the fresh robe over Aaryan's shoulders, careful not to disturb the sigil.

"Let's just hope your fortune doesn't come with too heavy a price."

Maya remained quiet, her gaze lingering on the mark before she too shifted her attention back to Aaryan's face.

His breathing had steadied now, slow and deep. The glow from the divine pills had dimmed, but faint traces of their power still flickered beneath his skin. His body was healing. Rebuilding. Becoming something new.

Sampoorna and Maya sat in silence once more, one on either side of the bed, the boy between them.

They didn't speak. There was no need.

What was broken would be mended.

What was lost… had been found.

And outside the sealed cave, the mountain wind screamed, as if the world itself could sense that a storm had returned—quiet for now, but waiting to rise.

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