The Ether Clone watched their expressions—three men of power reduced to quiet reverence by a single bite—and a faint, almost imperceptible smile curved beneath his mask.
To him, these fruits were ordinary. They grew in abundance in his garden, plucked like wild berries. Yet here, in this small room of mortal men, they were treasures beyond price—symbols of a gap so vast it could only be crossed with time and will.
Life is like that, he thought.
What one discards as garbage, another cradles as salvation.
A broken blade, a withered herb, a forgotten seed—trash to the strong, lifeblood to the desperate.
It can happen to anyone. To me. To my family.
What if a true powerhouse tosses aside something they deem worthless… and I find it priceless?
What if my own "garbage"—a discarded technique, a half-forgotten insight—becomes the spark that saves a life one day?
That is the quiet poetry of existence.
One man's refuse is another's miracle.
One day, when I am stronger still, I too will cast aside what I no longer need…
and somewhere, someone will kneel in gratitude for the gift I never knew I gave.
Shaking the thought aside like falling leaves, the Ether Clone gently poured tea from the jar with a subtle wave of his hand—cups filling themselves without a drop spilled.
"Let's talk about the purpose of my visit."
Mordan and Umang instantly composed themselves, straightening in their seats. General Amit forced himself to set down the half-eaten fruit, wiping his hands on a napkin, though his eyes lingered on the basket with barely concealed longing.
Mordan cleared his throat again, voice steady despite the lingering taste on his tongue.
"Please, Sir Heart. Speak freely."
The Ether Clone lifted his cup, took a slow sip of the fragrant tea then set it down with quiet finality.
"You should be aware of the game Free Fire."
Mordan nodded instinctively, though inside he exclaimed at the tea's perfection: every sip washed away hidden fatigue, soothed old injuries, sharpened his senses until the room itself felt brighter, crisper. His body hummed with renewed strength.
Umang and General Amit wore identical expressions—relief, wonder, quiet disbelief—as they drank in silence.
The Ether Clone continued, voice even.
"I want to buy that game—and its parent company. Acquire all rights, all assets, everything. For this, I need your help. To contact them. To make the deal happen."
The words landed like a stone in still water.
Mordan's cup paused halfway to his lips.
Umang's eyes widened fractionally.
General Amit nearly choked on his tea.
All three stared at the masked figure, the weight of the request sinking in like cold lead.
Mordan slowly lowered his cup, mind racing through a dozen implications in seconds.
Umang swallowed hard, throat suddenly dry.
Amit's hand tightened around his cup so hard the porcelain creaked faintly.
The room fell utterly silent.
A single question hung unspoken between them:
He wants to buy Free Fire? The entire company?
Then Mordan spoke, voice measured but edged with disbelief.
"Sir Heart… why do you want that game? In just two years Free Fire has become more famous than any title in history. With its cultivation-world elements integrated so perfectly, it's the undisputed top game—no competitor has come close. They've eliminated every rival, and acquiring its rights—and its parent company—would require money in the trillions."
He paused, choosing his words carefully.
"Even if we wanted to buy it, India doesn't have that kind of liquidity. Our economy would collapse under the strain of such a sudden expenditure. My position would be gone in weeks—I wouldn't be able to help you anymore. And even if we somehow had the funds… the parent company would never agree to sell. They've seen the game's potential. They know what it's worth. They won't let it go."
The Ether Clone nodded once, acknowledging every concern without a flicker of surprise. He understood them perfectly.
Just as he opened his mouth to reply, Umang spoke up, voice cautious but hopeful.
"Sir Heart… why don't you simply show them your powers? If you offer rewards—something they can't refuse—they would willingly hand over the company."
The Ether Clone shook his head slowly, voice calm and final.
"First: if I reveal my powers, they will give me the company out of fear, not willingness. Even with rewards, they would remain unsatisfied—they would demand to become my disciples, or more. I do not want a master-disciple relationship built on a business deal."
"Second: I do not enjoy using power to force others to work for me. If I did, I would not have asked you to help bring Xinxuan. I prefer cooperation over coercion."
"Third: I do not wish to reveal myself."