Rain fell without mercy.
It soaked the forest, turned dirt paths into slick mud, and washed the scent of blood into every hollow and crevice. Li Chen moved carefully through the undergrowth, his steps light despite the ache that still lingered in his limbs. The warmth inside him the faint ember awakened days ago flickered weakly, present but unstable, like a candle threatened by wind.
He had tested it only once since the clearing.
By focusing inward, slowing his breath, he could feel it respond barely. A thin thread of energy stirred in his lower abdomen, refusing to move further. No matter how hard he concentrated, it would not obey.
So this is cultivation, he thought. Slow. Cruel. Unforgiving.
The rain masked his presence, but it also dulled sound and sight. Li Chen relied on instinct more than senses, scanning the forest ahead with measured caution.
Then he smelled it.
Blood.
Fresh.
He crouched low and moved forward, parting wet leaves just enough to see.
In a shallow ravine ahead, a man lay slumped against a rock, robes torn and soaked dark red at the waist. His breathing was shallow, uneven. A broken sword lay half buried in the mud beside him.
A cultivator.
Li Chen's fingers tightened around his blade.
He did not rush forward. He watched.
Minutes passed. The man stirred weakly, coughing up blood. His face was pale, eyes sunken, but there was no mistaking the faint, shimmering aura clinging to his body.
Foundation Establishment? Qi Condensation? Li Chen had no way of knowing.
Only that this man could kill him with a thought if given the chance.
Li Chen circled downwind, careful not to snap a twig. When he was close enough, he spoke.
"Don't move."
The man's eyes snapped open, sharp despite the pain. For a heartbeat, killing intent flared then faltered. He grimaced.
"A mortal?" the cultivator rasped. "Get lost unless you want to die."
Li Chen did not step closer.
"Your sword is broken," he said calmly. "Your blood won't stop. You can't chase me."
The cultivator laughed weakly, which turned into a cough. "You think you have leverage?"
"Yes."
Rain ran down Li Chen's face. He felt no triumph, no fear only focus.
"I'll help you," Li Chen continued. "In exchange, you teach me."
The cultivator stared at him, then laughed again this time longer, bitter. "Teach you what? How to beg?"
"How to stop being helpless."
Silence.
The rain filled the space between them.
Finally, the cultivator exhaled slowly. "Name."
"Li Chen."
"I am Zhou Fan," the man said. "Outer disciple of the Iron River Sect. If I live, I owe you nothing. If I die, you get nothing. Decide quickly."
Li Chen nodded once.
He moved.
With practiced efficiency born of necessity, he tore cloth from his own sleeve, packed the wound with crushed herbs he recognized, and bound it tight. Zhou Fan hissed in pain but did not resist.
Hours passed.
By nightfall, the bleeding slowed.
Zhou Fan lay back, staring at the dark canopy above. "You're strange for a mortal."
"I don't plan to remain one."
A faint smile touched Zhou Fan's lips. "Ambitious. That usually gets people killed."
Li Chen met his gaze. "Then teach me before it does."
Zhou Fan studied him for a long moment. Then, perhaps out of boredom, perhaps curiosity, he spoke.
"Close your eyes. Feel your dantian."
Li Chen obeyed.
"There is Qi in the world," Zhou Fan said softly. "Most people never feel it. You have already touched it, haven't you?"
Li Chen did not answer.
"That means your spirit root is barely acceptable," Zhou Fan continued. "Enough to suffer. Not enough to be blessed."
Li Chen listened.
"Draw the Qi inward. Slowly. Greed will shatter you."
Under Zhou Fan's guidance, Li Chen breathed in rhythm with the rain. The ember within him stirred. A thin wisp of energy seeped inward, painfully slow.
Pain flared sharp, searing but Li Chen did not stop.
Minutes stretched into hours.
By dawn, exhaustion crushed him.
But when Li Chen opened his eyes, something had changed.
The ember was brighter.
Zhou Fan watched him with narrowed eyes. "Interesting."
Li Chen rose to his feet.
"Continue."
Zhou Fan chuckled weakly. "You really are ruthless."
Li Chen did not deny it.
As the sun rose, far above the clouds, thunder echoed though the sky was clear.
A silent mark formed, unseen, upon Li Chen's fate.
Blood had bought him silence.
But Heaven always collected its debts.