The Frost Forge Pavilion echoed with a sound that sounded suspiciously like a jackhammer.
THWACK-THWACK-THWACK-THWACK.
"Jiang Fan! Stop! It looks like a torture device!"
"Relax, Senior Sister. It's science. Trust the science."
Jiang Fan was kneeling on the floor next to Gu Ling's wheelchair. In his hand, he held a strange, T-shaped metal device that was vibrating violently. It was the "Spirit-Shock Massage Gun" he had built based on the blueprint from the System Shop.
Gu Ling was gripping the armrests of her chair so hard the wood was creaking. Her usually pale face was flushed with a mix of embarrassment and apprehension.
"I have never seen a medical tool that requires a combustion engine," Gu Ling hissed.
"It's spirit-powered," Jiang Fan corrected. He grabbed her left ankle—something that would have gotten any other disciple executed instantly—and lifted her paralyzed leg onto his knee.
Gu Ling froze. His hands were warm. Even though she couldn't feel her legs, the sight of a man holding her ankle so casually made her heart beat faster than she liked.
"Okay, initiating percussive therapy. Level 1."
Jiang Fan pressed the vibrating head of the machine against her calf muscle.
Vrrrrrrrrrr.
Gu Ling's eyes widened. She gasped.
It didn't hurt. It wasn't the sharp, stinging pain of Qi infusion. It was a deep, rumbling vibration that shook the stagnant blood in her veins and loosened the tight, knotted fibers of her muscles.
"Oh," she breathed out.
"Feel that?" Jiang Fan asked, moving the device up toward her knee. "Your muscles are tight because they never move. This mimics movement. It tricks the nerves."
He worked in silence for a few minutes. Gu Ling's head fell back against her headrest. The constant, cold ache that lived in her lower body was fading, replaced by a strange, tingling warmth.
"Turn it... turn it up," she whispered.
"Level 2. Coming up."
THWACK-THWACK-THWACK.
After ten minutes, Jiang Fan turned the machine off. He set it aside and wiped his hands.
"Okay, machinery is done. Now, manual hydraulics."
"Manual what?"
"Stretching," Jiang Fan said. "Your joints are rusting. We need to oil them."
He didn't ask for permission this time. He took her foot and gently pushed it upward, flexing the ankle, then bending the knee toward her chest.
He did it with the same focused, bored expression he wore when looting a corpse. There was no lust in his eyes, only the clinical evaluation of a mechanic fixing a broken suspension system.
"Push back," Jiang Fan instructed.
"I can't," Gu Ling reminded him bitterly. "They don't work, Jiang Fan."
"Visualize it," he said, not looking up. "Your brain needs to remember what pushing feels like. Send the signal. Even if the wire is cut, send the signal."
Gu Ling stared at him. She closed her eyes. She focused on her leg, imagining the muscles contracting, imagining pushing against his hand.
Nothing happened physically. Her leg remained limp in his grasp.
But Jiang Fan nodded as if she had succeeded. "Good. Again."
They spent an hour like that. Bending, rotating, flexing.
For Gu Ling, it was overwhelming. No one touched her legs. Ever. To the sect, her legs were a symbol of her failure. To Jiang Fan, they were just... legs. Legs that needed maintenance.
By the time he finished, Gu Ling felt exhausted, but for the first time in years, she didn't feel heavy.
"You're actually good at this," Gu Ling admitted softly, watching him pack up the massage gun. "You could have been a healer."
"Too much work," Jiang Fan stood up and stretched his own back. "Healers have to run around saving people. I prefer clients who sit still."
He hopped onto her workbench and swung his legs.
"So," Jiang Fan said, his tone changing. "About this tournament."
Gu Ling stiffened. "What about it? You start in three days. I've already registered you."
"I read the rulebook," Jiang Fan pulled a crumpled pamphlet out of his pocket. "Page 4, Section 2: 'In the event of a Beast Tamer or Puppet Master, the disciple may bring one auxiliary support entity into the arena.'"
Gu Ling raised an eyebrow. "Yes? You aren't a Beast Tamer. And you don't have a puppet."
"I have you."
Gu Ling blinked. The silence stretched out.
"Excuse me?"
"I want you to join me," Jiang Fan said. "As my Support."
Gu Ling let out a sharp, incredulous laugh. "Me? Jiang Fan, I am the Head of the Frost Forge Pavilion. I am technically an Elder-rank disciple. I can't enter a student tournament as a 'Support'."
"Actually," Jiang Fan pointed at the rulebook. "Technically, because you haven't passed the 'Physical Mobility Exam' required for Elder Promotion, your official rank is still 'Honorary Inner Disciple'. Loophole."
Gu Ling's face darkened. He was right. It was a sore spot for her—she had the authority of an Elder, but the rank of a Disciple because she couldn't complete the physical obstacle course.
"Why would I do that?" Gu Ling asked coldly. "Why would I lower myself to enter an arena where people will stare at me? Where they will mock the 'Crippled Phoenix' rolling around in the mud?"
"Because I'm too lazy to fight alone," Jiang Fan said instantly.
"That is not a valid reason!"
"Listen," Jiang Fan hopped off the table and walked over to her. He crouched down so he was eye-level with her.
"You built that chair to be a tank, right? But you only use it to float around the workshop. You built those floating daggers to kill, but you only use them to peel fruit."
He pointed at the tournament pamphlet.
"You want data on my movement technique? Come get it. Be my eyes. I'll handle the dodging. You handle the... large explosions."
Gu Ling looked away. Her hands gripped the warm knee pads he had given her.
She was terrified of the arena. Not the fighting—she could freeze anyone in the Outer Sect instantly. She was terrified of the pity. She hated the way the crowd went silent when she entered a room.
"They will laugh," Gu Ling whispered. "A lazy fool and a cripple. We will be a joke."
"Let them laugh," Jiang Fan shrugged. "Laughing takes energy. That means they'll be tired when we beat them."
He held out his hand.
"Come on, Senior Sister. I need a tank. And you need to test your suspension system in a real combat scenario. Plus... if we win, I get a house where I can sleep forever. Help a guy out."
Gu Ling looked at his hand.
She thought about the hour he had just spent massaging her legs. She thought about how he didn't flinch when he touched her paralysis. She thought about the "Magnetism Array" he suggested that fixed her headaches.
She was tired of hiding in the pavilion.
A slow, dangerous smirk spread across her face. The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.
"Fine," Gu Ling said, taking his hand. Her grip was surprisingly strong.
"But I am not a 'Support', Jiang Fan."
The mechanical spider legs on the back of her chair unfolded, sharpening with a metallic shing.
"I am the heavy artillery. You are just the bait."
Jiang Fan grinned. "Bait requires very little movement. I accept."
[ System Alert: Party Formed! ][ Member: Gu Ling (Level ?? - Ice/Artificer) ][ Synergy Bonus: "The Lazy & The Lame" ]
Effect: When Jiang Fan is stationary, Gu Ling's casting speed increases by 20%. When Gu Ling attacks, Jiang Fan's evasion increases by 20%.
"The Lazy and the Lame?" Jiang Fan looked at the system notification. "We really need to work on our team name."
"Shut up and push me," Gu Ling commanded, unlocking the brakes on her chair. "If we are doing this, we are going to upgrade your fan. It needs a flamethrower attachment."
"Finally," Jiang Fan sighed happily, walking behind her chair. "I knew you had a romantic side."