Chapter 22

  As Adam made his way back toward the sect, his robes tattered and stained, his expression remained blank—but inside, his thoughts twisted like a storm.

  "Did I go too far? Was that... manipulation just another form of killing?" he wondered.

  A familiar voice echoed in his mind.

  "Don’t sweat it. You didn't go against it."

  Adam furrowed his brow. “I didn’t kill him. But—"

  Zayk cutting in, voice laced with amusement and apathy

  “I don’t give a damn about any philosophical bullshit. As long as he doesn’t die because of you, I don’t care what you did. From where I stand, you gave him a second chance—and if he climbs high enough, he might even thank you for it.”

  A beat of silence. Adam opened his mouth to respond, but Zayk continued before he could speak.

  "I’ve got to give you some leeway. Wouldn’t be any fun if you were just a cornered rat hiding in a hole. And besides..."

  Zayk’s voice grew quieter, more thoughtful—then cut off, as if he’d said too much.

  Adam looked forward, the weight on his chest lifting just slightly.

  “Second chance, huh... Let’s hope it’s worth something.”

  As Adam approached the sect gates, the two guards stationed there stiffened. Their faces betrayed a flicker of confusion—followed swiftly by a subtle, involuntary shift into horror.

  They had been bribed by Kai Yun, fed a convincing lie: that he wanted to help Adam. All they had to do was keep track of his movements, report his departures. Simple. Safe. At least, that’s what they thought.

  Adam didn’t break stride as he passed them. His expression calm, almost detached—until, just before entering, he turned his head slightly and offered them a slow, knowing smile.

  That smile sent a chill up their spines. It wasn’t cruel. It wasn’t mocking. It simply said I know.

  The guards said nothing. They dared not.

  After completing the formalities of his return, Adam made his way directly to the sect's mission hall.

  There was no time to rest. The world wouldn’t wait.

  After confirming the completion of his previous mission—gathering spirit herbs—Adam received a modest reward of a few gold coins. It wasn’t much, but enough to keep moving.

  Next, he scanned the mission board and selected one more profitable: Bring five hearts of water-element beasts.

  “I have a great idea. I want to know if it would work.”

  After receiving confirmation and recording the mission details, he left.

  Exactly ten hours later, Adam returned to the sect.

  He approached the desk and calmly placed a cloth-wrapped bundle on the counter.

  “...What’s this?”

  “The mission said five hearts of water beasts.”

  The worker opened the bundle and blinked. Five still-fresh hearts rested inside.

  “Where’s the rest?”

  “Just the hearts.”

  Worker: “Just the hea—WHERE IS THE REST?!”

  Adam, face calm, voice flat “It’s just the hearts.”

  The worker stared at him. Silent. Processing. Then sighed like someone who regretted every choice that led them to this moment. He stamped the mission as complete and handed over the reward.

  No further questions were asked.

  ---

  In adam’s mind:

  “Using my healing to force regeneration worked even better than expected. The beast's heart regrew after each extraction. Painful? Probably. Cruel? Debatable. Effective? Absolutely.”

  “Five hearts. One beast. And with a little help from memory manipulation…”

  “The beast remembers nothing. A win-win... for me.”

  After a long day of creatively finishing beast parts missions, Adam made his way to the sect’s trade hall. It was run not by the sect itself but by merchants from the outside world or those affiliated with powerful clans.

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  Among the stalls, Adam approached one with a familiar insignia.

  Kaelith Rune “Oh my… to think I’d see you again so soon—after the little show you put on at the Ember Coliseum.”

  Adam tried to offer a polite, if awkward, smile. It ended up looking more like a grimace.

  Kaelith chuckled, amused.

  “Now having trouble with showing emotion, I see.”

  “Did you find any candidate disciples?”

  “Yes. The Northerner—Thorgar.”

  Adam showed a hint of curiosity “Thorgar? The guy with a Grade 0 Synchronisation? Why him?”

  “Exactly because of that. Grade 0 means no elemental interference. Perfect for our tech-path cultivation—no unwanted interactions with the machinery, and they work purely with natural Qi.”

  Adam nodded slowly.

  “Alright then. That’s good.”

  “So, what brings you here today? Wait—let me guess. Qi Crystals for the Light, Metal, and… Death elements?”

  Adam looked mildly surprised.

  “Thought so. Metal, I can sell it to you . Light—you’ll need to find another merchant; I’ll take you to someone trustworthy. But as for Death…”

  Kaelith’s tone lowered slightly.

  “That’s extremely rare. Heavily restricted. Just like Darkness. No merchant will risk selling it openly, even to someone like you. I’m afraid I can’t help you there.”

  “Understood. Thank you. How much for the metal Qi crystals?”

  They settled the price—Adam could only afford a few with his current funds.

  Once the transaction was done, Adam gave a short nod and turned away. Without pause, he made his way to the edge of the sect—to the pit where all the undesirable beast remains and other wastes were discarded.

  The stench of blood and rotting Qi hung heavy in the air around the pit—a place avoided by most, but perfect for Adam’s next step.

  He sat cross-legged at the edge, a few faintly glowing metal and light Qi crystals by his side, already absorbed. But what he was truly after… was what lingered in the air, in the bones, in the ichor and rot: traces of Death element, scattered in the remains of the discarded beasts.

  Adam took a deep breath, closing his eyes.

  “Alright… Time to try the Internal Harmonization Method.”

  He focused on his upper dantian—the center of consciousness, memory, and spiritual awareness. He imagined it like a vast hollow sphere. Within it, he visualized carving out small compartments—nodes—delicate structures where each element could reside, isolated yet orbitally connected.

  Light, Metal, Death.

  He began with the Light element. Drawing it inward slowly, he guided it into the first node—keeping it compressed, stable, and sealed. Then the Metal element followed, its weight dragging on his spirit, but he forced it into the next node.

  When he pulled in the faint Death Qi, something twisted in his chest.

  “It’s too thin… almost nonexistent—but it’s enough. It has to be enough.”

  Even that minuscule presence resisted being bound, as if trying to unweave everything around it. His head pounded, vision blurred. The three nodes began to tremble—shaking the balance.

  Sweat streamed down his face.

  “Don’t overflow… keep them isolated. Keep them separate. Think like an atom… each element, an electron…”

  For ten straight hours, Adam remained still—his breathing shallow, his body strained, but his mind unwavering. Every mistake required resetting, starting over. It was maddening.

  Finally… something clicked.

  The three elements stabilized in his upper dantian, orbiting silently within their nodes, harmonized like planets around a sun.

  A wave of relief flooded his body—but it didn’t last.

  A whisper of intuition stirred in his mind, instinct born from spiritual sensitivity.

  If he stopped now… the harmony would collapse.

  The upper dantian would be overwhelmed by the presence of the other elements. In the other dantians, Death would fade—unable to hold its space.

  He grimaced.

  “So I have to do all three…”

  He began again, shifting focus to the middle dantian—the core of breath, will, and internal strength. Then the lower dantian—the base of vitality and physical power.

  Piece by agonizing piece, node by trembling node, Adam repeated the process.

  Death. Light. Metal.

  By the end, the three elements in each dantian spun in harmonious orbits—like electrons around a nucleus, quiet and perfectly balanced.

  He opened his eyes.

  For the first time in hours… he could breathe without strain.

  His soul felt lighter. His body stronger. His mind sharper.

  “This… is the right path.”

  Even the faint Death element he absorbed from the pit clung to him now, a part of him—no longer fading.

  He stood up slowly, looking at the remains in the pit one last time.

  And without a word, he turned and walked back toward the sect—his body and mind finally in harmony.

  As Adam approached the sect library, he noticed an unusual gathering in the training grounds nearby. A cluster of disciples stood in a loose circle, murmuring and pointing with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

  New arrivals.

  He paused, narrowing his eyes, and stretched his senses outward.

  There—familiar Qi.

  Red.

  The tiny white fox, no bigger than a rabbit, was perched atop someone’s shoulder. As soon as Adam’s presence brushed against its perception, Red’s ears perked up, and in the blink of an eye, it darted from the shoulder like a streak of snow.

  “Piiiii!”

  Adam didn’t move as Red leapt toward him. The fox twirled mid-air before landing perfectly in his arms.

  Emotion surged between them—pure excitement, longing, relief. Red rubbed its head against Adam’s chest, its tails flicking energetically.

  Adam smiled faintly, the smallest twitch of his lips. His hand came up and gently scratched behind Red’s ears, offering the long-missed affection.

  “You’ve gotten faster,” he murmured.

  He then looked toward the group Red had come from—and his eyes widened slightly.

  Lan Xiaoyan. Lan Xiaomei.

  He recognized them instantly.

  The fisherman's children.

  His benefactor Old Bao’s son and daughter, now standing tall in disciple robes, their eyes scanning the crowd with nervous energy and subtle awe.

  Beside them stood a girl with silver hair and a noble air about her—Aria von Ebonreich. Her posture was flawless, her gaze sharp, though she tried to mask it with practiced calm.

  As Adam began walking toward the group, Red still curled in his arms, Xiaoyan was the first to notice.

  “Adam?!”

  The recognition hit him like a spark to dry tinder.

  Xiaoyan stepped forward, eyes wide—not with surprise, but genuine joy. Xiaomei followed close behind, her usual shyness overridden by pure excitement.

  “You’re here!” Xiaomei nearly bounced.

  Adam nodded with a slight grin. “Looks like the fish are learning to swim in deeper waters now.”

  Xiaoyan laughed. “You haven’t changed.”

  Xiaomei tugged at his sleeve. “Is Red still biting things she shouldn't?”

  Red made a sound of protest and buried her face in Adam’s collar.

  Meanwhile, Aria watched silently from a step behind. Her eyes flicked to Adam’s form, lingering a little longer than necessary. Her thoughts were harder to read—but there was recognition there.

  She hadn’t forgotten.

  The person who had shown Grade 9 synchronization with not one, not two, but three elements.

  Her fingers clenched slightly at her side.

  Those weren’t just uncommon or rare.

  They were the kind of elements that made instructors whisper and sect elders watch.

  Even one would be enough to mark someone as touched by the heavens—or cursed by them. But three? Three that didn't naturally coexist?

  Aria's expression remained composed, but there was a flicker of something behind her eyes.

  Caution.

  And maybe… curiosity.

  Xiaoyan stepped forward, his eyes bright with excitement.

  "Adam! I—I mean, we wanted to tell you everything that happened after you—"

  Adam raised a hand gently, ruffling the boy’s hair with a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  "Another time," he said softly. "I’ve got something to do in the library."

  As his hand lingered atop Xiaoyan's head, Adam silently activated his ability.

  Memory Manipulation.

  A flicker of invisible energy pulsed beneath his palm. His consciousness brushed Xiaoyan’s surface thoughts… then dove deeper.

  Fragments of memory bloomed.

  A crumbling ruin. Shadows moving unnaturally. Fear, desperation,A name that is echoing in xiaoyan mind 'lunaria’ and a radiant sword —no, the sword. The one that—

  A jolt.

  Adam’s probing mind hit resistance like stone.

  The image of the sword flared bright, and the world around Adam shimmered. Time stilled. Space folded.

  Then she appeared.

  A woman of impossible beauty and presence, cloaked in soft red light that pulsed like a heartbeat. Her hair flowed like smoke, and her star-glint eyes locked onto his. She radiated warmth and power in equal measure.

  Her voice entered only his mind, melodic and calm—

  “What are you doing to my disciple?”

  Adam’s expression didn’t change. He stood still in the suspended moment, only his voice replying, measured and clear.

  "I'm not harming him. I was reading his memories. It won’t leave a trace or cause pain. You must be Lunaria."

  He gave a slight nod. "I’m Adam."

  Lunaria’s gaze sharpened.

  Her divine consciousness surged forward, trying to pierce into his soul.

  She succeeded—but only partially.

  What she saw stopped her breath.

  Adam’s soul was twisted—not broken, not tainted, but transformed. One arm of his soul was a blade, corrupted and reshaped by the lingering will of a Titan. It shimmered with primal intent.

  And then she felt them.

  Two presences.

  One… impossibly far above her. A being two full major realms higher, watching silently.

  The other… not even within comprehension. A presence so vast and alien, it felt like the void of eternity had turned its attention toward her.

  Lunaria recoiled.

  Her wariness turned to instinctive fear.

  She narrowed her eyes. "What are you?" she whispered. "For beings like that to be watching you…"

  Adam said nothing.

  Lunaria took a breath, collecting herself.

  "...No. I don't want to know. But this ends now."

  With a snap of her will,

  the soulscape shattered.

  Adam blinked—

  And the world resumed.

  His hand still rested on Xiaoyan’s head, gently ruffling it.

  The boy looked up at him, unaware of anything that had just occurred. Adam smiled faintly, withdrawing his hand.

  "I'll see you later," he said.

  Then he turned, and walked into the library.