Aaryan glanced at Maya.

She stood still, her gaze lowered, veiled eyes unreadable. In all their brief moments together, he had never seen her fall into such silence. Not this kind. It wasn't the calm she wore like a second skin—it was weightier, like a thought had struck her and left a bruise.

Had he said something wrong?

"I'll choose these two," Aaryan said, holding the scrolls closer. "You brought them out… so I assumed they were options. But if they're restricted—clan secrets or something—I can pick others. "

That did it.

Maya blinked as if snapping from a trance, her composure returning with a breath too quiet to catch.

"No," she said quickly. "That's not the issue."

But she didn't elaborate.

He watched her for a second longer, but whatever thoughts troubled her were now sealed behind the same smooth tone she always used.

She turned her attention to one of the scrolls he'd picked—Dominion Tyrant Physique—and tapped the bottom edge. "This one is missing its final part," she said softly.

Aaryan raised a brow. "That's fine."

"Mm. It won't matter for now," she said, almost to herself. "Even if you master the earlier stages, you'll need time before reaching the level where the final part becomes relevant. Maybe… if fate permits, you'll find it one day."

Aaryan gave a relaxed nod. "Then I'll rely on fate for once."

The tension eased between them. Maya, now back to her usual calm, settled onto the stone bench nearby, one hand resting in her lap, the other toying idly with the hem of her sleeve. Her voice, when it returned, carried the sharp clarity of someone about to teach.

"You don't know much about the real cultivation world, do you?" she asked.

"No," Aaryan admitted. "Not beyond the scraps I heard in the sect."

"It shows," Maya said, without judgment. "This region… is a pond. A forgotten one. The world beyond it is vast—and crueller than anything you've seen."

He didn't argue.

She continued.

"There are two main paths: Qi cultivation and soul cultivation. Most choose Qi. The path of body and energy. It has seven known stages:"

She raised a finger for each.

"Qi Condensation, Foundation Laying, Core Pillar—some call it Core Formation—then Divine Atrium, Sacred Palace, Heavenly Sanctum, and the final known stage: Eternal Apex."

A pause.

"No one has ever stepped into that last realm. Not truly."

Aaryan's brow furrowed. "No one?"

"Not in this era. Maybe not in any. We only know the name because it appears in ancient texts." She leaned slightly forward. "Those who follow this path are known as Aetherians."

He repeated the name in his mind, filing it away.

"Then," she went on, "there is the rarer path: soul cultivation. It mirrors the seven stages of Qi, but it focuses on will, mind, and spirit. The stages are—"

"Spirit Awakening, Spirit Tempering, Spirit Birth, Spirit Glyph, Spirit Ascension, True Spirit Realm, and finally, Soul Sovereign."

"And just like Eternal Apex," she added, "no one has reached Soul Sovereign either. Not in any verified record."

Aaryan exhaled. "So… two mountains. And people still chase them?"

"Exactly," Maya said.

"And soul cultivators?"

"We call them Eidolists."

Aaryan furrowed his brow as he looked at Maya with a trace of confusion. "You explained the seven stages of Qi cultivation... and the soul path too. But what about body tempering? You didn't mention it in either."

Maya's lips curled into a soft smile, as if she'd been waiting for him to ask. "That's because body tempering isn't part of either path," she said, her tone light but steady. "It's a prerequisite of sorts — a foundation you must build before walking either road."

"Think of it like this — your body is the vessel. If it's too weak, it'll shatter the moment Qi rushes through your meridians. And if it's impure, it'll corrupt the soul the moment you try to awaken it."

Aaryan listened intently, nodding slowly.

"That's why body tempering comes first," Maya continued. "It strengthens your frame to handle the strain of Qi... and purifies your being so your soul has a place it can truly inhabit. Before you can rise, your foundation must be unshakable."

She paused, her smile returning with a glint of fondness. "In other words, both paths — Qi and Soul — begin with the body. Never forget that."

Maya stepped closer and handed Aaryan the two scrolls.

"These belong to you," she said simply.

Aaryan accepted them with both hands, a flicker of gratitude in his eyes.

Maya continued, "Now, you have a choice. You can stay here and cultivate until you've recovered your strength—or you can come with me."

Aaryan blinked, gaze dropping to the scrolls for a moment. "Come with you…?"

"Yes. But either way, recover first. Rushing off in that state would be a waste."

He nodded slowly, brows furrowing. "I don't plan to leave just yet."

"Then sit. Cultivate."

He hesitated, then looked around at the cave's stillness. "But wouldn't that mean I'd have to stay here for two, maybe three years? And even then… there's no guarantee I'll reach the 8th stage again. It took me nearly four months just to reach the eighth stage before, and that too was only possible because of that man's reward in the tomb. Five stages in one go—that wouldn't happen again, right?"

Maya laughed lightly, the sound echoing off the stone walls.

"With your body remade, your cultivation speed will be far faster than before. Your meridians, your marrow, everything has changed. You've already walked the path once—it won't be as difficult again. "

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She paused, a glint in her eye. "And as you said earlier, I'm investing in you now. Naturally, I'll aid your cultivation. Two months. That's all you'll need to return to 8th stage Body Tempering. But remember, investments are only made in futures that stir the world."

Aaryan's eyes widened. "That fast…?"

He smiled, almost let himself believe. It sounded too easy. Too clean.

In fact, it was too easy.

Had it been the old him—the boy before the tomb, before the trials—he might've dropped everything and assumed some divine god was plotting against him again.

He was still thinking when Maya's gaze narrowed. "What's going through that scheming little head now?"

He exhaled, scratching his cheek. "Just... lately, my luck's been too good. Even I don't believe it."

Maya's expression turned amused. "Lucky? You call this luck? How old are you?"

"Nine."

"And how many times have you stared death in the eye?"

Aaryan thought for a second. "Twice."

"Exactly. Twice, before the heavens even finished shaping your bones. Most children your age worry about warmth and food. You? You bled. You ran. You fought death itself. The heavens watched."

He blinked, unsure if it was praise or a warning. "So… you're saying I earned this?"

Maya tilted her head. "I'm saying this: In this world, karma is a ledger. Every pain endured, every impossible moment survived, every step taken without retreat—it all writes your name a little deeper into fate."

She stepped closer, her voice soft but weighty. "Your near-deaths weren't just misfortunes. They stirred the fabric of destiny. When a life fights to survive beyond its limits, karma condenses, and fate begins to notice. That's when the world responds. That's when the so-called luck begins."

Aaryan's lips parted slightly. "So, I've been… accumulating karma?"

"Like a storm gathering above your head," Maya said. "Not because you begged for blessings, but because you earned them with every scar. That inheritance you spoke of? It didn't find you by chance. It was drawn to your thread in the tapestry."

Aaryan swallowed, unsure if the weight in his chest was pride… or pressure.

He fell quiet for some time, awe creeping into his voice. "And what if I hadn't survived those moments?"

Maya's smile faded just a touch, her eyes dimming. "Then the world would've moved on. Fate only bets on those who struggle back. It rewards the ones who refuse to die quietly."

Then her smile returned, faint and knowing.

"So, no. You're not lucky. You're noticed."

Aaryan didn't waste any time and immediately sat down on the cold stone floor, the rough surface biting into his skin, grounding him. He let out a long breath, the tension in his muscles slowly uncoiling. Around him, the cave remained still — no breeze, no sound, just the crackling of firelight throwing shadows on the walls. Closing his eyes, he began to focus inward, letting his thoughts fade into the stillness. Bit by bit, his heartbeat slowed, his breath deepened, and the chaotic storm within began to quiet.

He recalled the body tempering method mentioned in the Confluence Codex. Each step, each breath, was etched in his mind. He recalled each step with crystal clarity — the breathing rhythm, the tightening and relaxing of specific muscle groups, the micro-movements in his body that triggered internal pressure.

As he followed the steps mentioned in the technique, heat began to build in his body, not from any external energy, but from within — muscle tensing, blood thickening, bones subtly vibrating. It was a furnace stoked by breath and will.

A searing ache spread through his limbs — not painful exactly, but deep, like iron being slowly folded and reforged. Sweat beaded down his spine. And beneath the strain... came a strange, primal satisfaction.

Time slipped by unnoticed.

When he finally opened his eyes, they were bright — not with energy, but with a raw, grounded clarity. He stared at his hands, turning them slowly, flexing each finger.

He opened his eyes. In the past, this kind of progress had taken a week. Now… one hour. Hope flickered—but he buried it, breath by breath.

His fingers curled into fists. A flicker of hope passed through his eyes. 'Maybe... maybe two months really will be enough to reclaim my strength.'

He shut his eyes again, forcing the emotion down. Excitement was dangerous. It led to mistakes. He returned to the Codex's rhythm, each breath sharpening his focus, each motion driving the heat inside him harder. The strain intensified — his muscles locking in resistance, his heartbeat thudding like a hammer.

And still, he endured.

Just behind him, Maya stood silent. She hadn't moved for a while now. Her arms were folded, but her gaze never left him. She didn't speak, didn't interrupt — but in her stillness was something fierce. Something maternal. Proud. And deeply fragile.

🔱 — ✵ — 🔱

While Aaryan sat in silence, forging forward, the region beyond the cave had changed. One month had passed since that day in the tomb.

Only three days ago, Elder Dharun and the surviving Evernight Pavilion disciples staggered back to the sect. Many hadn't made it. They had been encircled by the three rival sects. Wounded and grieving, Dharun had demanded to lead a rescue and retaliation force—but the higher-ups denied him.

"By the time we arrive," they said, "the tomb will be long closed. Rest. You'll be called for your report."

And now, today, that moment had come.

Elder Dharun stepped toward the towering doors of the main hall, his robes fluttering in the air. The guards bowed low and slipped inside to announce his arrival. Moments later, the doors creaked open, and Dharun entered.

Inside, Sect Leader Pryag sat upon the central dais. Flanking him were the Four Grand Elders, serene and unreadable. Arrayed behind them were more than a dozen elders.

Dharun bowed deeply and was just about to speak—when his gaze froze.

Rudra.

The boy stood among the elders, stiff-backed and pale. Dharun's eyes narrowed. Rage surged to the surface.

"What is he doing here?" Dharun snapped, pointing directly at Rudra.

Rudra flinched. "E-Elder Dharun, I—"

Before he could finish, Elder Kiyan stepped forward, placing himself protectively between Rudra and Dharun's burning glare.

"What he's doing here is not your concern," Kiyan said coolly. "What is our concern… is how you, a member of the elder generation, assaulted a junior and seized his treasures."

Dharun's fists clenched. So that was it.

Kiyan—one of the sect's highest-ranking elders, with authority over the core disciples. Rudra's grandfather. It was all coming together.

"How shameless can you be, Elder Kiyan?" Dharun growled. "That treasure belonged to Aaryan. Rudra attacked him. He betrayed his own fellow disciple and stole from him."

Colour drained from Rudra's face.

The sect's three ironclad rules were absolute: No collusion with outsiders. No betrayal of the sect. No harming fellow disciples outside sanctioned duels.

Violation meant death.

Elder Kiyan's jaw tightened, but he didn't back down. "And where is your proof, Elder Dharun? Just the words of a few disciples from rival sects? You would condemn our own for that?"

Dharun stepped forward, ready to erupt—

"Enough."

Sect Leader Pryag's voice cut through the room like thunder.

"Dharun. Make your report."

Dharun exhaled and bowed again. Then, coldly, he began.

He recounted everything.

How they met Cloud Pillar Sect… the bet between Rudra and Yashan… the near-loss in the 5-on-5 challenge—until Aaryan stepped in and defeated four opponents alone.

How Rudra humiliated him afterward by making him apologize to Yashan.

How the tomb appeared.

How the disciples entered.

How Rudra emerged with three scrolls…

And how the other sects attacked them in ambush.

He ended with the most damning part: How Yashan, Shivul, and Veiyra all publicly claimed that Rudra had betrayed Aaryan, trapped him inside, and fled.

"And then," Dharun said, his voice low, "Aaryan returned. Alone. He injured Yashan, Shivul, and Veiyra—and singlehandedly blocked the three elders. He held them back so that the rest can escape."

By the end, Rudra was drenched in sweat. His knees trembled. Elder Kiyan stood frozen, his smile stiff.

A heavy silence filled the hall.

Then the First Grand Elder spoke.

"There is no evidence beyond the words of rival sect disciples," he said calmly. "We cannot punish Rudra based on that."

Relief crashed across Rudra and Kiyan's faces.

"Furthermore," the elder continued, "Rudra returned with three sacred scrolls. A great contribution. He will be promoted to Core Disciple status, granted 200 spirit stones, and given priority to cultivate the scrolls."

Rudra's eyes lit up. Kiyan looked ready to burst with pride.

Dharun's hands trembled. He looked around, searching for even a flicker of dissent. But none of the grand elders spoke. Not even Sect Leader Pryag. As if Aaryan's name had already turned to ash in their hearts.

How far had the rot spread?

From beside the dais, the Fourth Grand Elder leaned in and whispered, barely audible. Only Pryag and the other grand elders could hear.

"…Wasn't it you, First Elder, who praised Aaryan during the selection trial?"

A shadow passed over the First Elder's face. His gaze dulled.

"Only the living are worthy of praise," he said softly. "And favour."

Kiyan laughed quietly, just loud enough to be heard.

"Truly wise, Grand Elder," Kiyan said, bowing ever so slightly. "It takes vision to see past the tricks of our enemies—and not fall for the paranoia of lesser men."

Dharun asked again, voice dripping with fury and sadness "Is this how we award loyalty to those who gave their lives for the sect?"

Elder Kiyan smirked "You dare question grand elder's decision Dharun? So what if that vermin died, It's his good fortune that his death brought some benefits to us."

That was it. Dharun surged forward, fury boiling—

Then the hall doors burst open.

A breathless guard stumbled inside, kneeling.

"S-Sect Leader… Elders! Forgive the intrusion. I bring urgent news!"

Sect Leader Pryag's eyes narrowed. "Speak."

The guard gulped, clearly unsure if he believed his own words.

"Elder Kezan… of the Cloud Pillar Sect… has been killed. By a disciple of our Evernight Pavilion."

Murmurs erupted. The guard continued.

"His name… is Aaryan."

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