The spit in Aryan's mouth dried up instantly. His heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird trying to break free. He did not freeze in a heroic stance. Instead, his survival instincts kicked in, messy and desperate. He took a quick, clumsy step backward into the shadows of the narrow alley, his heel catching on a loose cobblestone. He almost tripped, his arms flailing for a second before he caught his balance against the damp brick wall.
The two guards in silver armor stood near the fruit vendor. The setting sun caught the polished metal of their chest plates, making the roaring tiger crest of Lakshay's family look like it was glowing. The taller guard, a broad-shouldered man named Bhairav, shoved the rough parchment sketch right into the vendor's face. The poor vendor shook his head frantically, his hands trembling over his pile of overripe mangoes.
Aryan pressed his back flat against the cold, mossy wall. He didn't dare to breathe out loud. He knew the academy rules. Inner court disciples were untouchable. Crippling an inner disciple, even in self-defense, was a death sentence for a servant like him. The guards would not arrest him; they would simply beat him to death in a dark corner and claim he resisted.
He needed to get back to his quarters. He looked around the alley. There were empty wooden crates and a few stray dogs fighting over a bone. He picked up a small, jagged stone from the dirt. He didn't throw it at the guards. Instead, he threw it hard onto the corrugated tin roof of a nearby blacksmith's shed.
CLANG!
The sharp, metallic noise echoed through the busy market. The stray dogs started barking wildly. Both guards snapped their heads toward the sound, their hands dropping to the hilts of their heavy swords. Bhairav cursed under his breath and took a step toward the blacksmith's shed to investigate.
Aryan didn't wait. He lowered his head, pulled his collar higher, and merged into a group of loud, tired miners walking past the alley. He kept his steps matched with theirs, hiding his face behind their broad, dusty shoulders. The smell of cheap sweat and coal dust masked his own nervous scent. He walked right past the guards, his muscles pulled tight, expecting a heavy hand to grab his shoulder at any second.
He made it out of the market. He half-ran, half-walked toward the extreme edge of the outer courtyard. His living quarters were nothing more than a broken-down mud hut near the academy's garbage disposal area. The smell here was awful, a mix of rotting vegetables and stale water, but right now, it smelled like safety.
Aryan pushed the flimsy wooden door open and quickly locked it behind him from the inside. He slid down the door, letting out a long, shaky breath. He was safe for tonight, but tomorrow the search would intensify.
He didn't waste time. He walked over to the small, cracked stone slab that served as his kitchen counter. He placed the small paper packet from Kaka Ram onto the stone. His hands were shaking slightly. He was hungry, his stomach twisting in knots, but he ignored it.
He found his heavy stone pestle in the corner. He opened the packet. The dried ginger root looked ordinary. The willow leaves were slightly wilted. The crushed black beetle shells smelled like dry earth and old blood. He dumped everything onto the stone slab.
He started grinding. The pestle hit the stone with a rhythmic, dull thud. He put all his frustration, fear, and anger into his hands. The ginger broke down first, releasing a sharp, spicy smell that stung his eyes. Then the willow leaves turned into a dark green mush. Finally, the beetle shells cracked and turned into a fine, dark powder.
The golden book of the Celestial Archive appeared in his mind. [Grinding complete. Mix with three drops of clean water to initiate the chemical reaction.]
Aryan used a small wooden spoon to add exactly three drops of water from his clay pitcher. The moment the water hit the mixture, it hissed. A faint, grey smoke rose from the paste, smelling strongly of acid and wet leaves. The paste turned into a thick, ugly black sludge.
He didn't hesitate. He unbuttoned his dirty shirt, exposing his chest. Right over his heart, the skin was slightly discolored, a physical sign of his shattered, blocked meridians. He scooped up the black sludge with his fingers. It felt gritty and unnaturally cold.
He smeared the paste directly over his heart.
For three seconds, nothing happened. Aryan frowned. Did Kaka Ram give him bad ingredients?
Then, the pain hit him.
It wasn't a dull ache. It felt like someone had poured boiling acid directly onto his bare skin. Aryan bit down hard on his own forearm to stop himself from screaming. His eyes watered instantly, tears mixing with the cold sweat pouring down his face.
The paste started to burn through his pores, sinking deep into his flesh. Inside his body, the calcified blockages in his meridians met the acidic reaction. The system chimed in his head. [Warning. Chemical reaction initiated. Dissolving meridian blockages. Pain level: Severe. Host must maintain consciousness to guide the clearing process.]
Aryan fell to his knees. He grabbed the edges of the stone slab, his knuckles turning white. The pain was blinding. He could feel the exact pathway of his heart meridian as the paste burned through the dead, hardened Qi. It felt like rusty nails being pulled out of his chest one by one.
"Just a little more," Aryan gasped, his voice breaking. He forced his mind to stay awake. He focused on the pain, using it as a map. He visualized his Qi, the small stream he had unlocked earlier, and pushed it behind the burning sensation, using the energy to flush out the dissolved waste.
He coughed violently. A mouthful of black, foul-smelling blood splattered onto the mud floor. The smell was disgusting, like stagnant sewer water. But the moment the black blood left his system, the burning sensation began to fade, replaced by an incredible, cooling relief.
He took a deep breath. For the first time in his life, the air didn't catch in his chest. It flowed smoothly, deeply, filling his lungs completely. His heart beat with a strong, steady rhythm. The heavy weight that had sat on his chest for eighteen years was simply gone.
Ding!
[Meridian Clearing Paste (Basic) applied successfully. Heart Meridian blockages cleared by 40%. Cultivation path optimized. Host has reached the peak of the First Stage of Qi Condensation.]
Aryan collapsed onto his back, staring at the dark, leaky roof of his hut. He laughed softly, a tired, genuine sound. He had taken his first real step. He was no longer broken.
Just as his eyes started to close from sheer exhaustion, a loud, heavy knock slammed against his wooden door. The cheap wood rattled in its frame.
Aryan's eyes snapped open. He stopped breathing. Through the gap under the door, he saw the shadow of a large pair of boots blocking the moonlight.
"Open up, trash," a deep, rough voice demanded from outside. "By order of the Lakshay family."