The morning sun filtered through drifting clouds, casting a warm shimmer across the quiet river. Aaryan stood on its banks, watching the slow current wind past stones and memories alike. This was where Kalyani had once found him—broken, half-dead, and without direction. Now, he stood straight-backed, his robes fluttering gently in the breeze, his eyes far steadier than they had been just days ago.

He exhaled slowly.

The journey to Green Veil City should've taken him days—weeks, even. But Maya had insisted on accompanying him. Aaryan had refused, of course. At first. She'd only smiled, as if refusal was a language she'd never been taught. The next moment, with a casual flick of her slender hand, Aaryan had found himself weightless, soaring through the sky, tethered behind her like a drifting leaf caught in a summer wind.

Flying… it had thrilled him. For a brief moment, the world felt small. Reachable.

Maya had been curious—too curious, maybe. She'd asked about his life. His past. His fears. And to his own surprise, Aaryan had answered everything. Normally, he'd have been guarded, evasive, already preparing three exit routes. But something had shifted inside him during the trials of the inner chamber. And something about Maya—her presence, her eyes, the calm weight of her voice—cut through his usual caution like sunlight through mist.

He'd told her everything. About Kamalpuri. About the sect. About how he'd pushed through every part of the tomb, only to end up betrayed, beaten, and barely standing

And she'd listened—really listened.

When he invited her to visit Kalyani with him, she declined gently. Said she had other matters to attend to, at least for now. But before she left, she pressed a smooth green jade into his palm, her expression suddenly serious.

"If you ever find yourself in danger you cannot escape from," she said, "shatter this. I'll come."

He didn't argue.

He placed it inside his spatial ring, which he still didn't dare wear. Instead, he kept it tucked in his robes, close to his chest.

Now, walking the familiar path through the city's edge, he felt oddly light. Not carefree, but... clear. The streets had barely changed. Same crooked lamp posts. Same alley cats stretched across stone fences. And then—there it was. The house. Kalyani's house. The one place that still felt, in some small way, like his.

He stepped closer.

Just as his hand reached for the wooden gate, voices drifted out from inside. Two of them.

One was Kalyani's, unmistakable.

The other… it stopped him cold.

Aaryan blinked, his head tilting slightly as he narrowed his eyes.

A slow, disbelieving smirk tugged at the edge of his mouth.

"What is he doing here?" he muttered, half amused, half annoyed, and more happy.

🔱 — ✵ — 🔱

The sky was still. The kind of quiet that made you suspicious if you lived long enough. But inside the weather-worn courtyard of Kalyani's house, something was off. Very off.

She stepped outside with a basket of fresh herbs tucked under one arm. The morning air was crisp, the breeze gentle. All perfectly ordinary. Except…

Her eyes narrowed.

"Why is the water bucket aligned with the moon dial?"

Across the courtyard, Dharun sat on the shaded veranda, hunched over a chopping board. He was peeling an apple with terrifying precision—slice after slice falling into a neat bowl like he'd rehearsed it in a monastery. Or a war room.

He didn't look up. "Optimal placement," he said. "Less exposure to rot. Helps circulation."

"Circulation of what?"

He paused. A beat passed. "...Air. Water. Energy."

She stared at him.

"Energy?"

He cleared his throat. "Mortal energy. Feng shui. I read about it… in a village scroll."

"Feng shui doesn't make your footsteps sound like falling hammers," she snapped. "You woke the rooster two houses down just walking to the herb rack."

"Old bones," Dharun said smoothly. "Heavy gait."

Kalyani gave him a look usually reserved for children caught hiding sweets in the medicine jars. She walked past him slowly, eyes scanning the courtyard like a seasoned investigator surveying a crime scene.

"You're the quietest man I've ever met," she muttered, "yet somehow you make the loudest silence."

Dharun raised an eyebrow. "That's poetic."

"It wasn't a compliment."

She reached for the watering can near the jasmine pots. Lifted it. Froze.

It sloshed suspiciously.

She unscrewed the cap and sniffed.

"Why does this smell like... jasmine tea?"

He nodded approvingly. "Infusion. For the soil."

"You're feeding my roses tea?!"

"Low-grade leaves," he replied calmly. "Checked the quality myself."

"Of course you did," she hissed. "You're very interested in quality for a man who claimed to be a 'retired herbalist.'"

"Old habits from youth," Dharun said. "Precision."

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She squinted at him. "You walk like a soldier, observe like a hunter, prune like a monk, and boil tea like you're testing poisons."

He gave a slight smile.

"Who are you really?"

"As I've said," Dharun replied, folding another apple slice with elegant finality, "an old friend of the boy's uncle's cousin."

Kalyani blinked.

"That's not even a real sentence."

"It is in some provinces."

She stared at him long and hard. Then slowly began circling him like a wary cat.

"You didn't come here just to prune my roses and realign my buckets. You're here because of him."

Dharun's hand paused mid-slice. It was so subtle she nearly missed it.

"My... duty is to observe the mortal—"

Her head tilted. "The what?"

He cleared his throat. "Figure of speech."

"No, no," she said, stepping closer, voice colder now. "Are you a bounty hunter? A debt collector? Or one of those lunatics who think herbs unlock the cosmos?"

Dharun considered this.

"...Technically none of those."

She crossed her arms. "I don't know what game you're playing, old man, but if you're planning to hurt him—"

"I would die first," Dharun said quietly, guilt flashing in his eyes.

The way he said it—firm, final—caught her off guard. She blinked. Her fingers twitched around the herb basket. Some of the tension left her shoulders, though she tried to hide it.

"Hmph. Dramatic old man."

"You remind me of someone," he said softly. "Same temper. Same eyes."

"Don't flatter me," she said, turning away. "It won't work."

"It wasn't a compliment."

She whirled around to glare again—only to find him sipping her lavender tea from her best ceramic cup. The one with the chipped rim she'd been meaning to replace for three years.

"Is that my tea?"

"I heated it with the fire formation you weren't using."

"I wasn't using it because it explodes if you look at it funny!"

"I offered it tea first."

"You're insufferable."

Dharun took another sip. "You're resourceful. That's why the boy survived."

Kalyani's glare cracked—just a little. But before she could retort, a sound broke the air: the wooden gate creaking open.

Both of them froze. As someone stepped through the threshold.

A familiar voice followed.

"You two seem to be getting along."

Aaryan stood at the gate, brows raised and a lopsided smile playing on his lips.

Kalyani immediately stepped forward, eyes sharp. "Where have you been?"

"I was nearly killed by a tomb, flown across the province by a veiled beauty, and threatened by ghost puppets," Aaryan said lightly. "Also, I had tea in the sky. Ten out of ten, would recommend."

She sighed. "Of course she did. That's how they get you. First, it's tea, then it's destiny."

She continued "Did this veiled beauty happen to give you magical trinkets or assign you a suspiciously vague world-saving mission too? Maybe a glowing sword? Secret prophecy? A pet phoenix?"

Aaryan gave a small shrug, trying not to look too pleased. "She did give me a jade pendant. Told me to break it if I was dying."

Kalyani let out a short laugh. "Of course she did. Let me guess—if you whisper her name three times, she appears in a swirl of moonlight?"

Dharun, from the veranda, coughed pointedly. "That looks like an important matter, actually."

"Don't encourage him!" Kalyani snapped. "He'll start thinking he's important."

"I am important," Aaryan said, stepping into the courtyard and raising both arms dramatically. "Behold, I have returned! The favoured disciple of fate—"

But Kalyani, as if reaching the end of her patience, turned and marched toward the house.

"Both of you—inside. Wash your hands. And if either of you tries to reorganize my herb shelf again, I swear I'll lace your tea with truthroot."

Dharun calmly rose to follow. "...That would explain a lot about your previous guests."

Aaryan snorted and followed him. "Why are you here?"

Dharun, now visibly relaxed as if some huge weight has lifted from his shoulder smiles "That's how you greet your Elders?"

Aaryan gawks "I only said Elder one time, not gonna happen again."

Both of them laughed and entered the room together.

He never said it out loud, but seeing Dharun here—waiting, watching, protecting—meant more than he could admit. It made the return feel less like survival... and more like a homecoming.

🔱 — ✵ — 🔱

Night had settled over Green Veil City, cloaking the courtyard in a cool silence broken only by the occasional chirp of crickets and the soft rustling of bamboo leaves. Lanterns swayed gently under the tiled roof, casting a warm amber glow over the veranda.

Aaryan sat cross-legged at the low wooden table, with Kalyani on his right and Dharun across from him. The tea between them had long gone lukewarm, but none seemed to mind. For the first time in months, there was a sense of stillness—not of peace, but of pause.

"I was sent out for some training," Aaryan said casually, eyes on his teacup.

"Unexpectedly long. I asked Elder Dharun to check on you while I was away."

Kalyani snorted softly, setting down her cup with a clink. "Hmph. I knew this old man was suspicious. No mortal sharpens kitchen knives that precisely. He even oiled the hinges of the doors. Who does that?"

Dharun raised a brow. "They were squeaking. And your spice rack was a disaster."

"They were arranged by frequency of use."

"They were arranged by delusion."

Kalyani's nostrils flared. "Say another word and you'll be drinking my soup with a bruised jaw next time."

"I survived that soup," Dharun muttered, deadpan. "Barely."

Kalyani rose with a huff, smoothing out the creases in her shawl. "Two lunatics in one lifetime is already a curse. I'm going to bed before I start throwing things." She vanished inside, muttering curses that sounded suspiciously herbal, still grumbling about senile old men and their smug faces.

As her footsteps faded, Dharun exhaled—a long, slow breath of a man who had just walked away from battle.

"I've faced beasts with razor hides, demon cultivators … but that woman?" He shook his head. "If I had known I would end up here with her, I'd have volunteered to fight those three elders again."

Aaryan laughed, a rare, honest sound. "She's not that bad. Once you get to know her."

Dharun gave him a flat look. "I've gotten to know her enough for this lifetime."

He leaned back slightly, eyes drifting toward the quiet doorway where Kalyani had vanished.

"But… this was the first time I saw her smile in nearly four months," he added quietly. "Tried to hide it, of course. Didn't do a very good job."

Aaryan nodded, his gaze softening. "I noticed."

A silence settled between them, this one comfortable. Then Aaryan turned toward Dharun, curiosity lighting his eyes.

"You still haven't told me why you really came."

Dharun didn't answer immediately. He looked up at the stars, lips pressed into a thin line.

"I knew that if you were alive, you'd come back here first. She's your only tie to this world." He paused. "And I came to protect her. In case someone else realized the same thing. In case your enemies decided to get to you through her."

Aaryan tensed, the corners of his mouth twitching. "But… isn't there a rule? That mortals aren't dragged into cultivator grudges?"

Dharun let out a short, dry laugh. "For all your cleverness and tricks, Aaryan, you're still too naïve."

Aaryan shrugged. "I'm only nine."

A small smirk played on Dharun's lips. "Exactly."

Then, Aaryan's brows furrowed slightly. "You said your enemies. Not rival sects. Why?"

The humour drained from Dharun's face. His voice, when it came, was low and clipped.

"I made my report. Laid out what Rudra did in the tomb, how he betrayed you and took the scrolls. Elder Kiyan, his grandfather, stepped in. Said I assaulted a junior and seized the treasures for myself. Turned it all around."

Aaryan's gaze darkened. "And the sect?"

"They didn't punish him," Dharun said, bitter amusement touching his tone. "They promoted him. Core disciple. Rewards. But then the news came—about you killing Elder Kezan. And with that, the possibility that you could be alive. And suddenly, everyone's attitude changed."

Aaryan listened quietly, no anger in his eyes—just an old understanding, slowly reinforced.

"So, loyalty only exists where there's power," he said finally.

Dharun nodded. "That's the law of cultivation. It always has been."

"I knew that already," Aaryan murmured. "But… now I understand it."

Dharun studied him for a moment, saying nothing. Then he asked, "So? What about you? Where did you vanish to?"

"It's a long story."

Aaryan told him everything—except for the four techniques. Not out of distrust, but because Maya had warned him: revealing them could bring disaster to those he cared about.

There was a pause.

"I broke through to the ninth level of Body Tempering."

Dharun's eyes widened just a little. "Already? That's… fast."

"I'm in a hurry," Aaryan said with a grin.

The old cultivator chuckled. They sat in silence a little longer, the tea now forgotten.

Finally, Dharun asked, "What are you going to do next?"

Aaryan looked up at the night sky again. Stars glittered like distant fires—cold, bright, untouchable.

Then, a smile touched his lips.

"We go back to the sect."

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