The golden lantern flickered softly, casting a warm sheen over the open pages of the martial arts manual Aelric studied. The book detailed the pressure points of the human body, and despite his vast experience with countless anatomies across multiple worlds, Aelric found himself… intrigued.
Pressure points.
The idea that simple force—combined with a thread of Qi—could manipulate the human body in so many ways was unexpectedly fascinating. Some points could halt bleeding, others relieve pain, while a few were infamous for torture. The diagrams were clean, detailed, meticulously drawn. This wasn't some superficial handbook. It was the work of a true master.
But Aelric was focused on only three entries.
The first was the Paralysis Point—a node that, when struck correctly, disrupted a person's inner energy entirely, plunging them into complete immobility. Only the user who applied it, or someone with overwhelmingly superior energy, could undo it.
The second was the Consciousness Point, which instantly rendered a target unconscious.
The third—the one without a diagram, without a precise location, and without explanation—was simply labeled:
Death Point.
An elusive weakness that shifted daily, once known only to ancient assassins, now lost to time.
Aelric lingered on that page longer than the others, though his expression never changed.
From within his soul, Hex watched closely. The little construct knew exactly what kind of monster could be born from pairing Aelric's absolute authority over blood with precise internal pressure-point manipulation.
Normal martial artists needed to touch a target.
Aelric… did not.
If he mastered the exact positioning and pressure ratios, he could trigger those points internally, through the bloodstream.
Hex trembled slightly at the thought.
Aelric closed the book softly.
He did not look up, yet he answered the thought Hex hadn't spoken aloud.
"What you're imagining is possible," he murmured, voice calm as still water, "but not simple. Internal pressure requires perfect precision. It will take time to refine."
Then, after a pause, he added:
"And execution speed matters. If my opponent moves faster than my focus, they can evade it. These abilities are not absolute."
Hex didn't respond immediately. When he finally spoke, his tone carried awe.
[Even so… in your hands, this is terrifying. And if the third point truly exists—]
Aelric shut the manual.
"Enough. Focus on stabilizing my core. I will practice this in the mind realm."
Hex didn't asked any questions further.
Aelric settled into a meditative posture. Slowly, his consciousness drifted inward, leaving only the faint golden glow of the lantern behind.
⸻
Seven Hours Later
The first rays of dawn slipped through the window, lighting Aelric's room with a soft amber hue. Sweat drenched his clothes and hair—training the mind realm and stabilizing his damaged core always produced intense internal heat.
With a slow breath, he opened his eyes.
He rose, walked to the window, and observed the early morning stillness. Vendors were just beginning to set up their stalls. Servants swept the streets. A faint breeze carried the scent of fresh dew.
After a moment of silent thought, he retrieved his storage ring—one carved from faint blue jade—and placed the remaining 9,500 gold coins inside. Then he washed his face, changed his clothes, and left the sect grounds.
⸻
The Morning Inn
The innkeeper nearly dropped the cup she was washing when Aelric entered. She had truly believed he'd disappeared to avoid paying the remaining fee.
Aelric placed two gold coins on the counter.
"Settle the rest of my bill. And bring me a cup of green bamboo tea."
The innkeeper bowed repeatedly and hurried away.
Aelric chose the table beside the window. Only two other early customers were present; the inn was quiet and peaceful.
He gazed outside briefly—but the calm shifted the moment the doors blew open.
A young man in his early twenties strode in, flanked by two bodyguards. Unlike the martial artists Aelric had seen until now, these three were… different.
Their bodies lacked daitian circulation.
Instead, Aelric saw something else—an energy that formed a spherical aura originating from the head and enveloping the entire body.
Spiritual essence.
His eyes narrowed slightly.
They were cultivators.
The young man spotted Aelric and walked directly toward him. With no hesitation, he sat across from him, his guards taking position behind him.
The inn's atmosphere tensed instantly.
One guard sneered and spoke with open mockery:
"You dare sit in the presence of Second Young Master Li Cheng of the Flowing Cloud Sect? Stand and pay your respects, boy."
Aelric didn't even shift his gaze to the speaker.
"Why," he said calmly, "would I pay respect to uninvited guests who sat at my table without showing any first?"
The inn fell silent.
The guard's face flushed red with fury. He raised an arm, spitting out:
"You bastar—!"
He never finished.
Aelric's eyes gleamed faintly.
In an instant, the guard's entire body froze—muscles locked, Qi halted. He remained stuck in that half-raised striking pose, unable to move even a single fingertip.
Gasps erupted around the inn.
Even the air felt colder.
From within Aelric's body, Hex whispered:
[You really did it… You monster.]