The therapy chamber at the summit of Ash Hall now resembled a clean slaughterhouse.
Ten stone beds were arranged in a circle. Upon them lay the healthiest outer disciples of the Ashen Vein Sect. Their hands and feet were bound with silver chains that converged toward a single central point: a stone chair where Qiu Moren sat.
"Begin," Yan Kesh ordered flatly.
He stood at the center of the circle, hands gripping the formation's control core.
Zrrrt.
Heat and pain-energy were drawn out from Qiu Moren's body. This time, Yan Kesh did not store it. Instead, he split the energy into ten smaller streams and fired them into the ten disciples simultaneously.
"AAAAARGHHH!"
Ten voices screamed in unison, shattering the silence of the night. Their bodies convulsed violently. Their skin blistered, veins bulging grotesquely.
But none of them died.
The burden of pain that would have killed a single person was now divided into ten equal portions—ten percent each. Agonizing. Crippling. But survivable.
Qiu Moren exhaled in relief from his chair.
"Ah… much rougher than usual, Vice Sect Master. But effective."
Yan Kesh did not reply. His attention was fixed on the Audit running inside his mind.
[ASSET STABILITY MONITOR]
[Disciple 1: Heart Rate 180 (Danger)]
[Disciple 5: Minor Cerebral Hemorrhage]
[Disciple 9: Unconscious (Connection Lost)]
"Replace Number Nine!" Yan Kesh shouted to He Qiu, who stood guard nearby.
Without hesitation, He Qiu dragged the unconscious ninth disciple out of the formation and threw a replacement onto the stone bed.
"Reconnect!"
A new scream joined the chorus.
The session lasted for an entire hour.
When it ended, Qiu Moren walked out refreshed and invigorated. Behind him, the ten disciples lay sprawled like corpses, foam spilling from their mouths, their eyes rolled back.
"Clean them up," Yan Kesh ordered wearily. "Feed them Ginseng Porridge and give them gold coins. Make sure they recover within three days for the next rotation."
Yan Kesh stepped out onto the balcony, gazing at the moon. His hands trembled—not from fear, but because his internal calculations were beginning to turn red.
"This is inefficient," he muttered.
The Cost of Goods Sold was too high.
These disciples would be permanently damaged within a month. Yan Kesh would have to keep recruiting replacements. Eventually, the sect's population would run out—or a rebellion would erupt.
I need a container that cannot be damaged, Yan Kesh thought. Or… a container that can be reused indefinitely.
Yan Kesh recalled a rumor he had once read in the secret archives of the Black Meridian Sect—a tale of an ancient sect that worshiped not gods, but the Lost Seconds.
The Chronoweave Order.
It was said they possessed an artifact called the Stasis Cage—an object capable of freezing the condition of anything placed inside it.
If Yan Kesh could place Qiu Moren's illness into the Stasis Cage… the disease would stop progressing.
No need for treatment.
No need for disposal.
It would simply be paused forever.
"He Qiu," Yan Kesh called without turning.
"Yes, Sir?" He Qiu appeared, his clothes stained with a disciple's vomit.
"Prepare for travel. We are heading to the Valley of Hourglasses."
"That's neutral territory, Sir. And supposedly… haunted."
"Not haunted," Yan Kesh said calmly. "Just… slow."
"We depart tomorrow."