Elder Tian's voice, for the first time, held a note of genuine uncertainty. The Aether shroud clinging to Ren was not an illusion; it was a visible, shimmering distortion in the air around the boy's body, a testament to the sheer volume of energy being drawn into him.
The Elder closed the distance between them, his hand outstretched. "Do not move," he commanded. Ren flinched as the Elder's thumb pressed firmly against his forehead.
A wave of profound, ancient Aether washed through Ren's body. It was unlike the chaotic torrent of his own soul; this was a power as vast and deep as a silent ocean, meticulously controlled. It was not violent, but exquisitely investigative, flowing through his dormant spiritual channels, mapping every muscle fiber, every bone, every cell. Ren felt like a rock submerged in a deep sea, the immense pressure of the water examining his every crevice.
The Elder's Aether recoiled slightly as it brushed against the passive, hungry void of Ren's assimilation. He could feel the Elder's focus sharpen, his probe circling the strange phenomenon. Minutes passed in charged silence.
Finally, Elder Tian withdrew his hand, a deep, contemplative frown etched on his face.
"Incredible," he muttered, more to himself than to Ren. "Your spiritual channels are sealed, as commanded. The Spirit Soul is dormant. Yet your physical body is saturated with freshly assimilated Prime Aether. It's not circulating... it's just... there. Soaking into your flesh. This isn't cultivation; it is a form of biological parasitism on the Aether Weave itself."
He began to pace, his mind clearly working through millennia of accumulated knowledge. "There are legends, of course. Obscure texts from before the Imperial Ascendancy that speak of bloodlines with Cellular Resonance, allowing them to draw strength directly from the world. It was believed to be a myth, a lost path." He stopped and looked at Ren, a new light in his eyes. "Perhaps this is why you survived. A normal child exposed to the chaotic Aether of a high-rank Rift Break would have been corrupted into dust. But your body... it simply fed on it."
The new information settled in Ren's mind, not as a comfort, but as another layer of abnormality that separated him from everyone else. He was a freak of nature.
"My initial training method is flawed," Elder Tian declared, his voice regaining its customary authority. "Forcing you to suppress your Spirit Soul is like trying to starve a beast that can eat the air around it. It is insufficient."
He raised two fingers. "Therefore, your training will now have two objectives. First, you will continue to suppress your Spirit Soul. The dragon must remain leashed until your will is strong enough to command it. That does not change."
"Second," he continued, "you must learn to control this passive assimilation. If your body is a sponge, you must learn to consciously harden its surface. Through sheer force of will, you will learn to regulate the rate of absorption. You will focus not on the channels within, but on the very pores of your flesh. You will learn to close them to the Aether around you."
It was an even more abstract, more impossible task than the first. Controlling the flow of Aether within one's own body was the foundation of cultivation. Controlling the flow of Aether into one's body from the outside world was unheard of.
Having delivered his new decree, the Elder's demeanor shifted from instructor to administrator. From his robes, he produced a simple bronze token, engraved with the academy's sigil and the number '734'.
"This is your identification," he said, pressing it into Ren's hand. "Your tuition and board have been handled. Your assigned dormitory is in the Western Barracks, Block E. It is where we house initiates with no clan affiliation. Go."
The dismissal was abrupt. The Western Barracks were notoriously spartan, a world away from the luxurious courtyards the clan scions enjoyed. The message was clear: you are my ward, but you are not one of them.
Exhausted to the bone, Ren gave a short, respectful bow and left the serene garden, the bronze token feeling heavy in his palm. He followed the signs, his journey taking him further away from the pristine central buildings towards the stark, functional architecture of the outer districts.
Block E was a grim, grey stone building that had seen better decades. His room, #734, was little more than a cell: a hard cot, a small desk, and a single window overlooking a dusty training yard. His old, patched travel pack was already sitting on the bed. He was home.
Ren took a deep breath, the air here thin and lacking the vibrant Aether of the Elder's garden. It was a start. It was survival.
He had just begun to unpack when the door to his room creaked open without a knock.
Lin Fei, the arrogant boy from the House of the Jade Serpent, stood in the doorway, flanked by two other well-dressed students. His arms were crossed, and a malicious sneer was plastered across his face.
"Well, well," Lin Fei drawled, his eyes sweeping across the tiny, bleak room with contempt. "So this is the kennel where the Elder keeps his pet monster."