Everyone in the main hall froze.

Sect Leader Pryag, the four Grand Elders, the seated elders— none said a word. The silence pressed down like a lid on a coffin.

Then, slowly, Sect Leader Pryag leaned back in his chair. "Guard. Speak clearly. All of it."

The trembling guard stepped forward. "Reporting to Sect Leader, this news has been spreading among smaller sects and rogue cultivators. They were present when Elder Dharun and the disciples were surrounded. The chaos drew many eyes."

The First Grand Elder narrowed his gaze. "What news?"

The guard swallowed. "After Elder Dharun left with the chosen disciples, the three elders—of Crimson Serpent Hall, Cloud Pillar Sect, and Starfall Valley—whom outer disciple Aaryan attempted to stop, attacked him in retaliation."

A few gasps rippled through the chamber.

The guard continued. "According to reports, Aaryan consumed some kind of divine fruit and forcefully broke through to the third stage of Qi Condensation."

"Third stage!?" an elder exclaimed, rising to his feet. "Impossible!"

"Silence," Pryag said coldly. "Let him finish."

The guard bowed and continued, his voice steadier now. "After that... Aaryan confronted Elder Kezan of Cloud Pillar Sect. They clashed head-on. Aaryan sent him flying—and with a single punch, shattered his skull."

A stunned silence followed.

Pryag's brows furrowed deeply. One of the Grand Elders leaned back slowly, eyes shadowed. Another whispered, "Killed... a Qi Condensation elder?"

The Third Grand Elder scowled. "You expect us to believe this tale?"

The guard bowed again. "I only report what has spread, Elder."

He took a breath, then continued. "But that was not the end. As the battle continued, Aaryan's body gave out. He collapsed. That's when Elder Ma and Elder Jun began torturing him. Broke nearly every bone in his body. Wounding him again and again—but left him alive."

Dharun's jaw tightened.

His fingers curled into fists at his sides. His breath grew shallow.

"Those bastards…" he muttered under his breath. In his mind, he could see it—Aaryan on the ground, unmoving, blood pooling beneath him as laughter echoed. The boy had always worn that smile like a mask, but beneath it...

He clenched his eyes shut.

The guard's voice wavered, almost afraid to speak the next part. "As everyone believed it was over... Aaryan roared. And stood back up."

Several elders shifted in their seats, visibly unsettled.

Pryag's voice dropped to a whisper. "What happened next?"

The guard lowered his head. "No one knows, Sect Leader."

Pryag's gaze sharpened. "No one knows?"

The guard nodded, voice now a murmur. "Yes, Sect Leader. When Aaryan rose, a baleful and dominant aura exploded from his body. Those present described it as monstrous—one cultivator said it felt as if death had taken form. Weaker disciples... were injured. Merely from standing too close."

"Injured by aura alone?" someone echoed, disbelief thick in their tone.

"That's absurd—"

The hall fell into another stunned silence.

It was the First Grand Elder who finally broke it. "What of Elder Ma and Elder Jun? Did they not report what happened afterward?"

The guard bowed. "Replying to Grand Elder... as of now, they haven't returned."

Gasps rang louder this time.

The guard added, "The three sects tried to suppress the incident. But too many rogue cultivators witnessed it. The story is spreading."

No one spoke. Eyes met, but no words came.

Dharun's hand trembled at his side.

As the guard concluded his report, a single thought echoed in the minds of everyone present:

There were only two possibilities for why Elder Ma and Elder Jun had yet to return.

Either they had killed Aaryan but sustained grave injuries and were now recovering in hiding…Or they had been killed—by Aaryan.

Both outcomes were difficult to believe. That a mere outer disciple could survive, let alone kill two Qi Condensation elders? Absurd.

Yet if forced to choose, most were willing to accept the first option.

The second…

A collective gulp passed through the room.

After a long silence, Sect Leader Pryag turned to the First Grand Elder. The old man gave a slow nod.

Pryag rose. His voice was calm but heavy with command. "Send word. All Evernight members outside are to be alerted immediately—any news on Aaryan or the elders must be reported at once. Assign a team of elders to standby for a potential rescue operation. The other three sects won't take this lightly."

Murmurs of agreement followed. Everyone nodded in understanding.

Then the First Grand Elder spoke, his voice slow and firm. "As Aaryan's death is not confirmed, the earlier decision stands suspended. We will give him a chance to speak—if he returns. Only after hearing both sides will we decide who to reward… and who to punish."

A quiet gasp came from the side. Elder Kiyan's face drained of colour.

Rudra's shoulders stiffened. He had believed the storm had passed, that Aaryan's death had erased all risk. He hadn't expected the sword to swing back so soon—sharper than before.

Dharun smirked faintly. He hadn't cared for their premature celebration. The moment they believed Aaryan was dead, they had rushed to elevate Rudra—declaring him a core disciple, showering him with rewards. But now?

Now they hesitated. Because if Aaryan was truly alive… a disciple who could kill an elder was priceless.

To any sect.

Dharun clenched his fists. He knew the truth. Aaryan hadn't done it for the sect. 'He hadn't fought for glory or the sect. He'd nearly died—for me'. That truth made it all the harder.

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Dharun had spent most of his life in the sect. He still held some emotions for it. But now, they seemed… distant. Faint.

Were they worth more than the loyalty of someone who had nothing, and still chose to stand beside him?

He had made his choice.

As Pryag dismissed the council, Dharun was the first to turn and leave. His steps were fast, urgent. The hall gradually emptied, leaving only the Sect Leader and the four Grand Elders behind.

The First Grand Elder sat still, a slow smile creeping onto his wrinkled face. Malice flickered in his old eyes.

"Boy… I hope you're alive," he thought. "You still have a part to play in my rise."

From the far side of the room, the Fourth Grand Elder watched him out of the corner of her eye. A shadow passed over her face.

She had seen that look before. And it didn't bode well.

As soon as Dharun stepped out of the main hall, he headed straight for the mission pavilion. His steps struck the stone fast, almost too loud for the empty corridor—as if walking slower might let the guilt catch him.

Without wasting a moment, he informed the registrar that he would be leaving the sect for a personal matter. The clerk tried to ask questions—protocol demanded it—but one look at Dharun's cold expression was enough. The matter was marked, the seal pressed, and Dharun was gone.

Sometime later, he stood before the gates of a small city nestled between rivers and lush forests.

Green Veil City.

He had never visited it before. To most, it was unremarkable—just another trade town with a sleepy population and modest spiritual density. But still Dharun was here.

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Far away from all this, buried within a secluded cave untouched by sunlight or sound, Aaryan remained unaware.

He sat still, breath gentle, mind silent. The cave was dim, the air damp, but none of it touched his focus. Time passed unnoticed.

Days bled into nights. Nights into weeks.

And in the blink of an eye—thirty-six days had passed.

Aaryan had risen only for food and water. The rest of the time, he had devoted to cultivation—utterly immersed in rebuilding his strength. His body now radiated a subtle glow, like warm jade polished to perfection. No scars, no blemishes. Only purity.

His eyes opened slowly.

Twin pools of endless ocean blue stared into the darkness. Calm. Vast. Powerful.

Then, a grin spread across his face—genuine and bright. He could feel it. The strength coursing through his meridians, the stability in his bones. He clenched his fists once.

"If I fought one of those three elders now," he murmured, "even without that fruit… I wouldn't lose."

The air shimmered.

And then, as if reality itself parted to make way, Maya appeared beside him.

Draped in her veil, silent as moonlight, she stared at him with unguarded surprise.

"Congratulations," she said softly, her voice almost melodic. "To reach the Eighth Stage of Body Tempering in just thirty-six days… You've not only restored your strength, but surpassed it."

She paused, as if reassessing him.

"I underestimated your talent. Honestly, if this news ever spread, no one would believe it."

Aaryan smiled, a rare smile untainted by sarcasm. "It's all thanks to you. The guidance, the herbs, the pills… Without them, I wouldn't have managed this."

Maya shook her head. "When I first gauged your potential, I took all of that into account. Even so—this result is beyond my expectations. Even with everything I gave you, this result is far beyond what should be possible."

She folded her arms, watching him carefully.

"So now that you've regained your strength… what do you plan to do?"

Aaryan fell silent. He stared into the darkness of the cave, expression thoughtful.

"…I'm not ready."

Maya tilted her head. "Not ready?"

"I killed three elders," he said quietly. "Their sects won't forget that. And my own—who knows what they'll do if they think I'm hiding secrets. If I show my face too early, I'll be surrounded again. I need more strength."

Maya nodded in approval. "Good. You haven't let your little power rush to your head."

Her tone softened. "Since you've chosen to stay… then focus. The Dominion Tyrant Physique isn't just powerful—it's among the finest in the entire cultivation world. But to master it, you'll need more than raw strength."

Aaryan looked at her, curious. "You mean…?"

"Consolidate your foundation," she said firmly. "Your rise has been too fast. That's dangerous."

He frowned slightly. "Consolidate? How?"

Maya sat down across from him, her voice calm but steady.

"Think of it like building a tower," she said. "You can rush through the first few floors, stacking them quickly. But if your foundation is weak—if the first layer isn't firm—then the entire tower becomes unstable. You might reach the tenth or even fifteenth level, but beyond that… collapse is inevitable."

She paused.

"But if you spend time strengthening the base—deepening your connection to each stage—you'll grow slower in the short term… but in the long run, you'll reach heights no one else can."

Aaryan listened, eyes narrowing slightly as he absorbed every word.

He said nothing for a long time.

Then finally, he nodded.

"I understand."

Maya smiled faintly behind her veil. "Etch this into your heart, Aaryan. The world is full of monsters with fast strength… and graves just as fast."

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Aaryan sat cross-legged on the cold stone floor, the ancient scroll resting gently in his hands. The air in the cavern was still, save for the faint dripping of water echoing in the distance. For a few moments, he simply stared at the scroll's surface — its material unlike any paper or cloth he had ever touched. It felt... old, but alive.

Before he could unravel it, Maya's voice cut through the silence. "Wait."

He looked up.

"You won't be able to access the technique just by reading it," she said, stepping closer. "These kinds of ancient scrolls are sealed with blood recognition. Beside the name of the technique you wouldn't get anything from it even if you stare at it for 100 years, bind it with your essence blood. Only then will it reveal the method to the rightful bearer."

Aaryan gave a small nod. Without hesitation, he pricked his thumb and let a single drop of essence blood fall onto the scroll.

The change was immediate. The surface pulsed faintly, like a slow heartbeat. Then, a glow shot out from the scroll landing right in the middle of his head. Aaryan's eyes closed as he absorbed massive amount of information. For several minutes, there was only silence, his gaze locked, his mind absorbing every word with full attention.

Finally, he exhaled and leaned back slightly, brows furrowed in thought.

"This is... intense," he muttered. "The technique doesn't rely on Qi. It directly reshapes the skeleton through strain and recovery. But..." He glanced at Maya. "Some of the conditions it describes — the pressure, the environmental force — I don't think we have anything close to that here."

Maya nodded as if she'd expected this. "We don't. But there's another way."

He looked at her, curious.

"I know an old formation," she said. "It was used by warriors who didn't cultivate Qi but still needed to strengthen their bodies. It mimics the force of high-gravity environments and directs pressure at specific points in the body. If I anchor it with the right materials, it should match — maybe even exceed — the requirements mentioned in the scroll."

Aaryan raised an eyebrow. "You're sure?"

She smiled faintly. "Confident enough to watch you suffer through it."

He let out a low chuckle and shook his head. "Sounds like a yes."

Maya knelt a few steps away and began preparing the array, her hands moving with precision, drawing symbols into the stone using a mixture of crushed herbs and conductive dust. Meanwhile, Aaryan closed his eyes once more, the details of the Dominion Tyrant Physique – Stage One: Primordial Tyrant Bone circling in his mind.

No Qi. No shortcuts. Just force, pain, and endurance.

He opened his eyes, the decision already made. "Let's begin."

The moment Maya activated the formation, the atmosphere shifted.

The symbols she had drawn pulsed with dull crimson light, and the air around Aaryan thickened like syrup. The ground beneath him vibrated faintly as invisible force pressed down on his body — not externally, but from within. It wasn't gravity. It was weight without form. Pressure without mercy.

At first, it felt like a heavy pack strapped to his back. Then it crept deeper. Into his shoulders. His spine. His ribs.

Then came the real pain.

It was as if his bones were being slowly squeezed by an unseen vice. Not crushed... but reshaped. His limbs trembled involuntarily. Muscles clenched and locked up, resisting the unnatural stress. Sweat broke across his brow and dripped down his jaw in slow trails. He gritted his teeth, but didn't cry out.

Every breath became a battle. Every heartbeat, a hammer strike echoing through marrow.

This was not cultivation in the traditional sense. There was no flow of Qi to guide or protect. No euphoric sensation of progress. Only the raw struggle of bone against burden. Every moment tested the limits of his body — and will.

Time passed slowly. An hour, maybe more. Aaryan lost track. Pain blurred thought, and fatigue gnawed at him like rats under the skin. Still, he endured.

When Maya finally deactivated the formation, the pressure lifted in an instant. His body slumped forward with a heavy gasp, chest rising and falling like he'd just outrun death itself.

He didn't speak. Not yet.

Instead, he sat still, letting the pain fade just enough for his senses to return. Then, moving slowly, he steadied his breath and looked inward, filled with quiet expectation.

His breath caught.

There, on the surface of the bone in his forearm — a single, shallow stroke glowed faintly. Barely visible. But it was there.

One stroke. That's all he'd gained.

And yet, it was progress. Proof that the path had begun.

He stared at it in silence for a long moment, then allowed a tired, almost amused smile to tug at his lips.

"One stroke," he murmured. "Took everything I had…"

From the side, Maya watched quietly, her expression unreadable — but her eyes glimmered with something close to pride.

Aaryan exhaled and let his arm fall to his lap, body trembling from the strain. He knew now — the Dominion Tyrant Physique wouldn't give him strength freely. It would grind him down, one stroke at a time, until he earned every inch of it.

Without hesitation, he sat down again, initiating the body tempering method—this was the best moment to practice, when his body had been pushed to its limit. And although this seemed torturous, real power never come free.

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