Morning came quietly.
The room no longer felt like it was holding its breath for death.
Marcus sat upright on the cot, shoulders squared, breathing deep and even. The weakness was still there, dull in his limbs, lingering in the joints, but it no longer had teeth. It felt like something that could be endured. Something that would pass.
Across the room, Lin moved with measured care, scooping rice into a small pot. He still handled everything like noise was a sin and space was borrowed.
But not as much as before.
Marcus noticed the difference in the pauses was shorter. In the flinches rarer. In the way Lin's eyes didn't dart to Marcus every second to check if he was displeased.
Marcus said nothing.
Change like this didn't need to be praised out loud.
It needed to be protected.
"Lin," Marcus said.
Lin turned immediately, straightening like a soldier called by name. "Yes, Father?"
Marcus studied him for a moment—the too-thin cheeks, the faint bruising hidden under sleeves, the controlled obedience that looked like politeness but smelled like fear.
"After we eat," Marcus said, "show me your cultivation."
Lin froze.
The air held still with him.
"…There's nothing to show," Lin said quietly. "My Qi… it doesn't respond anymore."
Marcus didn't react. His face stayed calm, his voice even.
"Show me anyway."
Lin's fingers tightened on the rice scoop.
Then, slowly, he nodded.
"…Okay."
The courtyard behind the house was small and tired.
Cracked stone. Faded training marks carved into the ground long ago. A wooden post leaning at an angle as if it had given up. Neglect in every corner, like the place itself had accepted defeat.
Lin stepped to the centre and took a stance.
It was clean.
Precise.
Practiced.
Not the stance of someone who had stopped trying—only the stance of someone who had stopped believing the trying mattered.
Marcus's eyes narrowed a fraction.
"Circulate your Qi," Marcus said.
Lin inhaled.
Focused.
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then a flicker.
So faint, Marcus might have missed it without watching closely.
The Qi stirred, unstable and uneven like water trying to flow through a crushed pipe.
It shivered once and collapsed.
Lin's shoulders tightened.
"I told you," he said, voice low, almost ashamed. "It doesn't work."
Marcus stepped forward.
He didn't speak right away.
He placed two fingers lightly against Lin's wrist.
Closed his eyes.
And listened with more than hearing.
Chaotic pathways. Blocked channels. Flow that wanted to move but couldn't find a way through.
Not destroyed.
Not broken by accident.
Forced shut.
Marcus opened his eyes.
His expression darkened not with rage, but with a cold clarity that made rage unnecessary.
"…Someone did this," Marcus said.
Lin stiffened so hard it looked painful.
"…I don't know what you mean," Lin said quickly, like denial was a reflex he'd trained to keep himself safe.
Marcus didn't press him.
"You don't have to," Marcus said.
A pause.
Then, quieter not soft, but sure:
"I'll fix it."
Lin shook his head immediately. "It's not possible. Even the sect said "
Marcus cut in, calm.
"Do you believe them?"
Lin stopped.
Marcus held his gaze, voice steady like a hand offered in the dark.
"Or do you believe what you saw yesterday?"
Lin's lips parted.
No answer came.
Not because he didn't have one.
Because answering felt like stepping off a cliff.
Marcus didn't push further.
He stepped back and gestured to the courtyard.
"Try again."
Lin hesitated.
Then nodded.
He took the stance once more.
This time, the flicker returned.
Still weak.
Still unstable.
But steadier than before.
Barely noticeable.
But there.
And then
A voice cut through the moment like a thrown stone.
"Well, well… look who's pretending again."
Marcus turned.
Three boys stood at the entrance of the courtyard.
Older. Broader. Clothes cleaner. Faces smug in the way only the unhurt could afford.
They wore confidence like armour.
Lin's posture changed instantly.
Not consciously.
Instinctively.
Smaller.
Guarded.
Like his body remembered its place even if his mind wanted to forget.
"…What do you want?" Lin asked quietly.
The tallest boy smirked.
"Nothing much. Just heard the cripple woke up."
His gaze slid to Marcus, amusement sharpening.
"Oh. He really did."
Marcus said nothing.
The boy laughed.
"What? Planning to make a comeback?" His eyes narrowed at Lin. "Or just giving your son more false hope?"
Lin's fists clenched at his sides.
"Leave."
The word came out sharper than Lin seemed to expect.
The boys blinked.
Then laughed louder.
"Did you hear that?" one of them said. "The useless one is getting bold."
The tallest boy stepped forward, stopping just inside the courtyard as if he owned it.
"What's next, Lin?" he said, voice dripping mockery. "You're going to tell us your father's strong again?"
Silence tightened the space.
Marcus watched.
He didn't interfere.
Not because he didn't care.
Because this was the moment Lin either shrank back into the shape the village had carved for him or cracked it.
Lin's breathing grew uneven.
His instincts screamed: Stay quiet. Endure. Survive.
But something else pushed back.
Something new.
Something fragile.
Lin remembered his father is sitting up.
His father's steady voice.
His father saying: No more empty words.
Lin's fists trembled.
Then steadied.
"…Yes," Lin said.
The courtyard went quiet.
The boys blinked as if they'd misheard.
"…What?" the tallest boy said.
Lin lifted his head.
His voice didn't shake this time.
"My father is getting better."
The tallest boy scoffed. "Getting better? From what? Being useless?"
Lin took a step forward.
Small.
But deliberate.
"He's already better," Lin said.
[DING!]
Marcus felt it before he saw anything.
A sharper pulse in his dantian cleaner, stronger.
[Public Brag Detected]
[Belief Level Increased]
Reward Granted: Qi Stabilisation + Minor Cultivation Boost
Energy surged through Marcus's body like a stream clearing mud from its bed.
His Qi, which had still carried faint instability, settled into place.
Marcus exhaled slowly.
Good. Very good.
The boys were still laughing, but the laughter had lost its ease.
"Listen to him," one of them said, but the words didn't land the same. "He actually believes it."
Lin didn't look away.
"My father will recover."
The sentence came easier now. Like it had been waiting behind locked teeth.
Stronger.
"And when he does…"
Lin paused.
Not out of fear.
But because the thought was new, dangerous in its boldness.
"…you won't be laughing anymore."
The courtyard fell silent.
The boys' smiles thinned, then faltered.
Marcus stepped forward.
Not aggressively.
Not threateningly.
Just… present.
And somehow, that presence shifted the air more than any shout could have.
The tallest boy frowned, eyes flicking down.
"…You're standing."
Marcus met his gaze.
"Yes."
A pause.
"…So?" the boy forced out, but his voice lacked conviction.
He held Marcus's eyes for a heartbeat too long, then looked away first.
"…Let's go," one of them muttered.
They turned and left, laughter trailing behind them like something dragged, not thrown.
Silence returned.
Lin stood still, breathing hard as if he'd just sprinted uphill.
Marcus looked at him.
"…You did well."
Lin turned.
His face was pale, but his eyes were clearer than they'd been in days.
"…I just said what I saw," Lin said.
Marcus nodded.
"That's enough."
Lin hesitated.
Then, quieter—
"…Father…"
Marcus raised an eyebrow slightly.
Lin's voice lowered, like he was afraid even now that belief could be punished.
"…You really are getting better."
[DING!]
[Sustained Belief Triggered]
Reward: Low-Grade Meridian Repair Fragment
Marcus felt the reward settle into him like a warm shard of order small, but precise, like a tool placed into his hand.
He smiled faintly.
"…I told you."