Lin Chen awoke to silence.
No rain.No pain.
For a brief moment, he thought he was dead.
Then the cold returned.
It seeped through his skin and into his bones, sharp and precise, like needles pressed carefully into every inch of his body. Lin Chen sucked in a breath and sat up abruptly.
The forest was still.
Moonlight filtered through broken leaves, casting pale shadows across the ground. His clothes were still torn, still soaked with dried blood—but his mind was clearer than it had been in days.
Too clear.
"You're awake," the voice said.
It came from everywhere and nowhere at once.
Lin Chen stiffened. His instincts screamed danger, but his body did not respond with fear. Instead, a strange calm settled over him.
"Who are you?" he asked.
A pause followed.
Then—
"Someone who walked your path… and failed."
The air before Lin Chen shimmered. Lines of pale light gathered slowly, forming an indistinct figure—neither fully human nor entirely illusion. Its face was blurred, but its presence was ancient, heavy with time.
"You absorbed the Meridian Fragment," the figure continued. "That means your meridians are destroyed beyond repair."
Lin Chen clenched his fists. "You sound pleased."
"Of course," the figure replied."If they weren't destroyed, you would be useless to me."
The words were blunt. Cruel.
Lin Chen did not argue.
"What do you want?" he asked instead.
The figure raised a hand. In an instant, Lin Chen's consciousness was dragged inward.
His vision flipped.
He saw his own body—transparent, fragile, riddled with cracks where meridians once existed. But between those fractures flowed something else.
Cold. Dense. Silent.
"This world cultivates qi through meridians," the figure said. "A flawed system. Efficient for the masses. Limiting for those who seek the peak."
The cold energy pulsed.
"You will cultivate without meridians."
Lin Chen's breath hitched. "That's impossible."
"Correct," the figure said calmly.
"That is why it works."
Images flooded his mind.
A cultivation method—no, a framework. Energy was not guided through pathways, but compressed directly into the flesh, the bones, the blood. Every cell became a vessel. Every breath a refinement.
It was violent.
Brutal.
Wrong.
"If I try this," Lin Chen said slowly, "I'll die."
The figure did not deny it.
"Most do."
Silence stretched between them.
The forest wind stirred faintly, brushing past Lin Chen's face.
"Why give this to me?" he asked.
The figure's blurred face turned toward him.
"Because you remember.""Because you didn't beg.""Because when your meridians shattered… you did not break."
The pressure in Lin Chen's chest tightened.
"And if I refuse?"
The figure began to fade.
"Then you will remain a cripple.""And die quietly."
Lin Chen lowered his gaze.
He thought of the sect gates closing.Of Chen Yu's bowed head.Of Elder Zhao's indifferent eyes.
Slowly, he sat down and crossed his legs.
"Teach me," he said.
The cold surged.
Pain exploded through his body as the first cycle began. His muscles screamed. His bones felt like they were being crushed inward. Blood seeped from his pores as the energy forced itself into places it was never meant to go.
Lin Chen bit down hard.
He did not scream.
Because this pain had direction.
And for the first time since his fall, Lin Chen smiled.