The sound of the closing door lingered faintly in the room.
Aelric sat across from Jian Wuhen at the low table, the faint aroma of tea between them doing little to ease the heavy tension in the air. Liang Shen stood quietly to the side, his posture rigid — though not from fear, but from the strange pressure emanating from both men.
The stillness was oppressive.
Finally, Aelric broke it.
"What business," he asked evenly, his tone devoid of warmth yet not impolite, "does the Sect Leader of Azure Heaven Sect have with me?"
His voice was soft, but it carried a weight that filled the pavilion. Jian Wuhen slowly lifted the cup before him, taking a calm sip before answering.
"In that case," he said, his tone controlled but slightly weary, "I will not beat around the bush." His gaze locked onto Aelric's. "I seek the help of the esteemed Divine Doctor regarding a… certain matter."
There was hesitation in his voice — a thin crack that betrayed the gravity of what he was about to ask.
"I can only reveal the nature of this matter," he continued, "once you have agreed to help. If this information were to leak, it could cause immense harm to my sect."
The air grew denser.
Aelric leaned back slightly, his eyes narrowing just enough to show faint interest. His mind turned over the possibilities. So, it is indeed connected to the First Young Master, he thought. The rumors weren't baseless after all.
Still, his expression didn't change.
"How," he said after a pause, "can I agree to anything without even knowing the problem? And how can I determine whether my abilities are suited to resolve it?"
The question was calm, logical — but its detachment made Jian Wuhen's composure falter. For a moment, the Sect Leader's eyes flickered with unease. He was caught between secrecy and desperation.
He exhaled slowly, as though releasing the weight pressing on his chest.
"Very well," he said quietly. "I will tell you what I can."
He set the teacup down gently, his hand trembling ever so slightly.
"There is a case," he began, "of blood poison. The victim's blood vessels have ruptured throughout the body — unable to heal, even under the care of our finest healing masters. No medicine or pill has shown effect. According to our physicians, the only possible cure would require advanced-grade healing pills — something akin to a Shaolin Divine Cleansing Pill."
He paused. "But such a thing cannot be procured in time. Even if I were to mobilize every resource of the sect, we would be too late."
Jian Wuhen's voice began to crack as he continued.
"Each day, his condition worsens. His meridians are collapsing. Even his Dantian — the core of his foundation — has begun to corrode. The pain is… unimaginable."
His final words came out rough, his throat tight. "I cannot tell you more than this. But please, esteemed Divine Doctor…" His composure finally broke. "Please, help us."
Liang Shen glanced toward his master. The Sect Leader's face had turned pale, eyes reddening as he lowered his head. His hand clenched on the table, the faint trembling of a father watching his son die inch by inch.
A heavy silence followed.
Aelric sat motionless, his crimson eyes fixed on Jian Wuhen's face — not with sympathy, but with calm analysis. He observed every twitch, every flicker of emotion, weighing truth and deception with surgical precision.
To most, the sight of a desperate father would invoke compassion. But Aelric… had lived through too much. He had watched civilizations rise and crumble, seen countless faces contorted in joy, grief, and despair. Human emotion was no longer an enigma to him — it was a pattern. Predictable. Understandable. Often manipulative.
He's genuine, Aelric noted silently. But not entirely. There's sincerity, yes… and calculation hidden beneath it.
Jian Wuhen was not lying about his son's condition, but his sorrow also served another purpose — to move Aelric's heart, to sway him emotionally where reason might fail.
But Aelric's heart did not sway.
He spoke finally, his tone flat and absolute.
"I can cure the blood poison," he said, "and repair the damage to the vessels. But tell me, Sect Leader — what do I gain in return?"
The words were direct. Sharp.
For a moment, Jian Wuhen simply stared at him — perhaps expecting even a hint of empathy that never came. When he saw none, his brows furrowed slightly, though he quickly masked the reaction.
He thought inwardly: So young, yet so composed… Not even a flicker of emotion. Just pure calculation.
Regaining his composure, Jian Wuhen said, "I will reward you with all the resources within my ability. Whatever you desire, name it, and if it lies within my reach, it shall be yours."
Aelric's lips curved faintly — not a smile, but an acknowledgment. The air around him shifted subtly, his presence deepening like an abyss stirring beneath calm waters.
In truth, Aelric already knew what he wanted.
Three clear objectives.
First — wealth. The concept was trivial to him in his old world, but here, where every step required resources, he would need money to move freely. Even the smallest convenience demanded coin — food, lodging, information.
Second — knowledge. The Azure Heaven Sect, even if not a top-tier force, still held centuries of records, maps, and historical fragments. Those could give him a clearer picture of this world's power system, its major factions, and the structure of its cultivation paths.
And third — the Spirit Realm.
That place… called to him. His instincts whispered of its importance — that something within it might aid in repairing his damaged core, or perhaps lead him closer to the answers he sought.
He spoke his demands clearly.
"Three conditions," Aelric said.
"First — ten thousand gold coins."
"Second — access to your sect's library, where basic information and records are kept."
"And third — permission to enter the Spirit Realm alongside your sect's disciples, should you win the upcoming duel."
He paused briefly, then added,
"If my conditions are met, I will personally aid your sect in securing victory in that duel."
The last sentence made both Jian Wuhen and Liang Shen stiffen.
The first two demands were reasonable. The third, however… was nearly unthinkable. The Spirit Realm was a sacred ground, opened only to disciples recognized by the sect's spirit oath. Allowing an outsider — a stranger whose true origin was unknown — would break centuries of tradition.
Jian Wuhen's face darkened slightly. "That… will be difficult," he admitted. "The Spirit Realm is governed by ancient rules, and—"
"You asked for my help," Aelric interrupted quietly. "And your son's life, I presume, is more valuable than rules."
The sentence was soft, yet it struck like a blade.
Silence stretched between them once again. The flickering candlelight danced in Jian Wuhen's eyes as he wrestled with his own hesitation. Logic battled emotion — the weight of duty against the weight of a father's fear.
Finally, he let out a deep sigh.
"So be it," he said, voice heavy but resolute. "I accept your conditions."
Liang Shen looked at him in shock, but the Sect Leader raised a hand. "Prepare the formal contract," he said. "It shall be written and sealed with Qi — bound by oath."
Aelric inclined his head slightly. "Wise decision."
Within the hour, a contract was drawn on a thin parchment imbued with sealing arrays. Both signed their names — Jian Wuhen's with his Qi imprint, Aelric's with a faint touch of crimson essence that shimmered before fading into the ink.
A faint pulse of energy rippled through the air — the contract recognized and sealed.
Afterward, they discussed minor details: timing, preparation, the patient's location. Aelric listened, his tone curt but not impolite. When all was settled, he rose, offered a small bow of courtesy, and turned to leave.
Liang Shen escorted him back through the courtyards in silence. The disciples they passed still whispered softly, curiosity glinting in their eyes. By the time they reached the main gate, the sun had already dipped behind the western peaks, dyeing the sky in hues of violet and gold.
⸻
As Aelric stepped outside the sect walls, the mountain wind greeted him — cool and steady. The road sloped downward toward Yunlai Village, faint lanterns flickering in the distance.
Behind him, Liang Shen stopped and bowed respectfully.
"Honored one," he said, "please rest well tonight. Tomorrow, I shall escort you to the treatment chambers."
Aelric nodded once and walked away, his white robes trailing lightly behind him like drifting mist.
⸻
Inside the pavilion, silence lingered after his departure. Jian Wuhen sat alone, staring at the faint trace of crimson essence left on the parchment.
Liang Shen finally spoke. "What do you think, Sect Leader?"
Jian Wuhen leaned back, eyes half-closed. "He is… an extraordinary young man," he said softly. "His presence carries no fear, no arrogance, no compassion — only certainty. Even when I spoke to him, his gaze never faltered. He's either completely confident in his power… or completely detached from life itself."
Liang Shen frowned slightly. "Do you believe we can trust him?"
"Trust?" Jian Wuhen gave a faint, hollow chuckle. "No. But perhaps… we can depend on him. For now."
He turned his gaze to the window, where the last light of dusk faded into night. "Such people do not act without purpose, Liang Shen. And sometimes," he murmured, "purpose is far more reliable than trust."
⸻
Meanwhile, Aelric continued down the moonlit path toward Yunlai Village. His steps were light, his mind already calculating the next move.
But halfway down the slope, he paused.
The night wind shifted — carrying with it a faint ripple of intent. The subtle disturbance in the air was impossible for mortals to perceive, but to Aelric, it was as clear as a heartbeat. Two presences. Both cloaked. Both trailing behind him since he left the sect gates.
He let out a quiet sigh. "So soon?" he murmured.
The aura behind him wavered — killing intent blooming faintly in the night.
Aelric's crimson eyes glowed softly under the moonlight as he spoke, his tone calm, almost bored.
"What do we have here…"
The mountain path fell silent — just before the killing intent surged closer.