Chapter 31
Recovery did not come gently.
Shenping woke to weight.
Not pain—weight. As if the world had finally decided to press back against him, demanding payment for every shortcut he had ever taken. His eyelids felt stitched shut, his limbs sunk deep into stone that pulsed faintly with warmth.
Breathing hurt.
Living hurt.
Good, he thought dimly. That means I'm still here.
He forced his eyes open.
The chamber had changed. The altar was gone, its grooves sealed as if they had never existed. In its place lay a shallow pool of clear water, steam rising softly from its surface. Mei Lian floated within it, face pale but peaceful, chest rising slowly.
Shenping tried to sit up.
Failed.
"You'll tear yourself apart if you keep pretending you're whole," Gu Tianxu said from nearby.
Shenping turned his head with effort. The old master sat cross-legged beside a stone table, grinding something dark and crystalline with deliberate slowness.
"What did you do to me?" Shenping rasped.
Gu Tianxu did not look up. "I removed your crutch."
Shenping laughed weakly. "You removed my legs."
"No," Gu Tianxu said. "I taught you gravity."
Shenping closed his eyes again, feeling the truth settle into his bones. The future no longer whispered. No warnings brushed his senses. Every action felt frighteningly final.
"How long was I out?" Shenping asked.
"Three days," Gu Tianxu replied.
Shenping stiffened. "That's too long."
"Yes," Gu Tianxu agreed. "You lost twelve settlements."
Mei Lian stirred in the pool, fingers twitching.
Shenping clenched his teeth. "You let it happen."
Gu Tianxu's grinding stopped. "I allowed it to happen."
"People died."
"Yes."
Shenping forced himself upright, muscles screaming. "Then what was the point?"
Gu Tianxu finally met his gaze. His eyes were not cold.
They were tired.
"The point," he said slowly, "is that if you act from guilt, you will be predictable. And predictable things are easy to erase."
Li Wei's voice echoed from the shadows. "He's right."
Shenping turned.
Li Wei sat against a pillar, diagrams etched hastily into the stone around him—fractals, spirals, structures that made Shenping's head ache to look at.
"You look awful," Li Wei added. "Congratulations. That means it worked."
Shenping exhaled. "What changed?"
Li Wei tapped his temple. "I stopped trying to force outcomes. I let systems breathe. Turns out chaos has preferences."
Gu Tianxu nodded. "He learns quickly."
Mei Lian suddenly gasped, sitting upright in the pool. Water splashed over the edge as she clutched her chest, eyes wide with terror.
"They're quiet," she whispered.
Shenping moved instinctively—and stumbled.
He caught himself before falling, surprised by how heavy his body felt. Each step was deliberate now, earned.
"That's normal," Gu Tianxu said. "Your mind has stopped leaning forward."
Mei Lian looked up at Shenping. "I can't see them anymore."
Shenping knelt beside the pool. "Is that bad?"
She swallowed. "It's terrifying. But… peaceful."
Gu Tianxu approached. "You gave up omnipresence. In return, you gained yourself."
Mei Lian nodded shakily. "I don't hear Sang Sang anymore."
The name hit Shenping like a blade.
"She's moving," he said immediately.
Gu Tianxu's expression darkened. "Yes."
He waved his staff.
The cavern wall shimmered, revealing a moving image formed of mist and light. A village unfolded—small, nestled between terraced hills. Smoke curled from cooking fires. Children laughed.
At the village edge, a woman stood smiling.
Her face was kind.
Too kind.
"She arrived an hour ago," Gu Tianxu said. "Synthetic skin. Adaptive empathy. Perfect grief simulation."
The image shifted.
The woman knelt beside an elder, listening attentively. Villagers gathered, nodding, relaxing.
Shenping's fists clenched. "They're using compassion now."
"Yes," Gu Tianxu said. "They learned fear breeds resistance."
The image cut sharply.
Night.
Fire.
Metal tore through wood and flesh alike. The smiling woman's face peeled away as she crushed a man's skull with mechanical precision. Children screamed. The village burned.
Shenping turned away, bile rising.
"At dawn," Gu Tianxu said, "they extracted what they wanted."
The mist focused.
A young girl was dragged from hiding, soot streaking her face, eyes fierce and unbroken.
Sang Sang.
Shenping's breath caught.
"She's alive," he whispered.
"For now," Gu Tianxu replied. "They did not kill her."
"Why?" Li Wei asked.
"Because she is not a loose thread," Gu Tianxu said. "She is a knot."
The image dissolved.
Silence returned.
Shenping stood slowly, steadier than before. "Then we move."
Gu Tianxu shook his head. "Not yet."
Shenping met his gaze. "If we wait—"
"You will die," Gu Tianxu finished calmly. "Or worse, succeed badly."
He stepped closer, voice dropping.
"You are no longer a time thief. You are a time bearer. That requires restraint."
Shenping closed his eyes, forcing his breathing steady. When he opened them, resolve burned brighter than anger.
"Teach me to fight without seeing the future," he said.
Gu Tianxu smiled faintly.
"Good," he said. "Then today, you learn how people used to survive."
He raised his staff.
The cavern floor shifted violently, stone rising into uneven terrain littered with pillars, traps, and narrow choke points.
"No powers," Gu Tianxu said. "No time bending."
Shenping swallowed. "Against what?"
The shadows moved.
Figures stepped forward—men and women in ancient armor, eyes empty, movements stiff yet precise.
Training constructs.
Dozens of them.
Li Wei whistled softly. "That's excessive."
Gu Tianxu's smile faded. "So is extinction."
Mei Lian struggled to her feet, weak but determined. "What about me?"
"You observe," Gu Tianxu said. "And remember what it means to be human."
The constructs advanced.
Shenping tightened his fists.
For the first time in a long while, there was no trick.
No shortcut.
Only skill.
Only choice.
He stepped forward anyway.
Far in the future, processors hummed softly as new data streamed in. The anomaly no longer behaved as predicted. Its responses were slower—but denser.
More dangerous.
A new probability emerged.
Shenping might survive long enough to interfere.
The machines adjusted.
And somewhere between centuries, a little girl named Sang Sang ran barefoot through the ruins of her home, carrying a future that refused to die.