Ryuha was not one to be concerned about many things. After all, when one reaches the height of power he had, few matters could truly cause pause. Perhaps his father or one of the other Supremes might—though that rarely happened, unless he had raided his father’s wine cellar.

How was he supposed to know it was a thousand-year-old plum wine? His father should have mentioned it or at least put a label on it.

It had been delicious, but seriously, did he have to beat me that badly?

Yet that wasn’t what worried Ryuha at the moment. It was the boy in front of him, and he had a funny suspicion that Rin would be one of them. No, that was impossible. It had been generations since the last had died of illness. Everything pointed to Rin being one of them, but he suspected that his good friend had known this before he left, just to be sure.

He broke the silence. "Rin, where did you learn that breathing technique?" he asked, genuine curiosity lacing his tone. The boy’s form felt familiar but slightly unrefined, yet it carried a trace of something more.

Interesting.

"From my father, young master," Rin replied without hesitation. "Before he was sent on his special mission."

"Before the special mission, you say?" A frown tugged at Ryuha’s features briefly. Rin’s father had always been full of surprises. But just as quickly as the thought surfaced, he let it go and smiled warmly at Rin. "Well, it’s a splendid breathing technique. Perhaps when your father returns, I’ll have him show me more in detail."

Ryuha watched Rin carefully as he prepared to shift gears. "Now, Rin, one last thing. I want you to cultivate, but instead of using the breathing technique you’ve learned, I want you to try this one." He flicked his wrist, summoning a small piece of parchment from the air. "This is one of my own design. Take it."

He noticed the hesitation in Rin's eyes. Of course. The boy's loyalty to his father’s teachings was admirable, but in this case, Ryuha needed him to trust him.

"You know, some of the inner disciples are already using a version of this technique, and they’re excelling—if I do say so myself." He added a touch of pride to his words, hoping to ease Rin’s concern.

Just a little push.

"Remember what I said when we came here?" Ryuha gestured toward the room, his tone gentle but firm. "I’m not asking you to abandon your breathing technique, only to test something." Urgency crept into his voice as he sensed Rin’s nerves tightening. The boy fidgeted for a moment before finally taking the parchment from him.

Good.

As Rin read it, Ryuha waited patiently. The technique wasn’t overly complex, but its subtleties often went unnoticed. Rin handed it back with a nod.

"You memorized it that quickly?" Ryuha raised a brow, impressed but wanting to be sure. "Are you sure you don’t want to look at it again?"

Rin shook his head. Ryuha smiled, pride swelling a little. "Well, what should I expect? You are Lee's son, after all."

With the parchment tucked away, Ryuha gave the final instruction. "Alright, now close your eyes and do the breathing technique I just gave you."

He watched Rin settle, and for a moment, the room seemed to hold its breath as the boy began. His posture was solid, his focus sharp. Just as before, Rin tried to cultivate, but this time, Ryuha knew he was using his technique. He didn’t expect to see immediate results, but he had a feeling something was about to happen.

A subtle shift rippled through the air as Rin's concentration deepened. Ryuha observed closely as a faint pressure built just below Rin's navel. Good, he's feeling it.

But then, something unexpected happened. Ryuha saw Rin’s expression change as excitement flickered across his face. Steady, Rin, don’t rush—

Then came the pop. The crack.

Ryuha winced as Rin's body tensed. The boy’s eyes flew open, and before Ryuha could react, a scream tore from him. Pain washed over Rin’s face, and Ryuha knew this was far worse than what the boy had experienced before. Rin's concentration shattered, leaving only agony behind.

Ryuha rushed to his side, already cursing himself under his breath.

"Breathe, boy, breathe!" he shouted. He placed a hand on Rin's stomach, forcing his qi into the boy’s body, and what he found made him wince.

Lee, I am sorry.

He looked at Rin, whose face was growing an ever-darker shade. "Rin, can you hear me? You need to breathe, boy. You’re going to pass out. Breathe."

Ryuha continued to push his qi into the boy, the external qi still ravaging Rin's organs and muscles. The pain must be excruciating.

"If you can hear me, Rin, blink twice," he instructed.

He waited for a moment before Rin’s bloodshot eyes focused on him, then blinked twice.

Good.

"I need you to calm your breathing. You’re hyperventilating, and your body is being starved of air," Ryuha said.

"If you don’t want to pass out, you need to calm yourself." Rin blinked twice more, and Ryuha noticed the boy's effort to regulate his breathing.

Good.

He looked Rin over. He was no healing expert, but if nothing was done, the foreign qi in the boy’s body would break him down from the inside.

An idea came over him. It was a terrible one, but...

"I am going to do something to expel the foreign qi, but it's going to be unpleasant," Master Ryuha said, ignoring the panicked glint in Rin’s already crazed eyes.

He placed his hand over Rin's tanden, concentrating a fraction of his qi in the palm of his hand, making sure to relegate it to be as weak as possible. He didn’t want to accidentally vaporize the poor boy.

"Brace yourself," he instructed, then blasted his qi into Rin's body, guiding the concentrated energy throughout his frame.

Don't want to make things worse now, do I?

A whimper escaped Rin's lips before his body lurched, arching his back before going limp.

Master Ryuha quickly checked his pulse and scanned his tanden. Everything looked good, though he had pushed the boundaries a bit too far. If his father were here, he would probably get a scolding—ugh.

As he sniffed the air, a horrid smell assaulted his nose. He brought his sleeve to his face, scanning the study for the source of the stench.

It landed on Rin, and he noticed the puddle next to him that hadn’t been there before.

Ah, yes, that was a possibility, wasn't it?

Master Ryuha walked to the door of the study, peering into the hall. Getting the boy some new clothes and someone to clean his mess was best. The difficult part would be letting Lee know of her son’s condition.

This is not going to be pleasant.

----------------------------------------

Rin's eyelids fluttered, and for a moment, he didn’t know where he was. His body felt... wrong. A strange tingling sensation enveloped him, like the pins and needles his mother had once described. The air felt thick, making every breath an effort. His body, usually full of vitality, felt heavy—broken.

Then it all came rushing back. The cultivation attempt. The pain. The screaming.

His mind swirled in a fog, but as he lay there on the cold floor, the crushing realization began to set in. He had failed.

But surely, this is something Master Ryuha can fix.

He blinked, forcing his eyes to focus on the ceiling above him, his limbs still unresponsive. The sound of footsteps echoed faintly from the next room. His breath hitched.

Who was it? Mother? Master Ryuha?

Their voices, distant but growing clearer.

"I didn’t know this could happen," Young Master Ryuha's voice was calm, but there was a weight beneath his words. "It should have worked. But it didn’t."

No, no. What does the young master mean it should have worked? Does that mean—? Rin's eyes grew wide with realization.

"Should have worked?" His mother’s voice trembled, disbelief palpable. "Young Master... my son—what—?" Her voice hitched, a brief moment of silence before she continued. "What is wrong with him?"

Rin’s pulse quickened. He could feel the panic rising in his chest. They thought he was unconscious, and perhaps, that was a mercy. The truth would crush his mother. It was already crushing him.

"I didn’t know," Ryuha replied. There was a pause, and Rin could hear the faint shuffle of feet, as though Ryuha was pacing. "Lee... he's not like the others. His body... it rejected the breathing technique entirely." The young master paused again.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

"My breathing technique."

"Rejected?" His mother’s voice wavered. Rin could hear the grief already creeping into her words. "You said he was ready. That his father's lineage—my lineage—would ensure he could cultivate."

"I thought it would. It should have," Young Master Ryuha's words were strained now, barely holding the stoic mask he always wore. "But there is something else at play here, something in his blood. His body doesn’t react to qi the way it should. Instead of absorbing it, it fights back—violently. And if I hadn’t been here..." He trailed off.

Rin’s breath caught in his throat. His body had fought back. His own body had rejected the very essence meant to give him power.

"So what does that mean?" His mother’s voice was quieter now, softer—broken.

"It means..." Young Master Ryuha hesitated, the weight of his next words crushing the silence between them. "It means he will never cultivate. Not in the way we hoped. Not ever. It has been centuries since I laid my eyes on one, but your son—" he paused, his voice taut. "You know what this means, Lee."

The world stopped. Rin's mind shattered into a thousand pieces. Never. He would never cultivate.

No. It couldn’t be. He had spent his entire life training, waiting, preparing for this moment. The pride of his family rested on his shoulders—his father’s legacy, his mother’s love, their trust in him. And now...

I thought it was just a case of resources. Now? Now...

A wave of nausea swept over him. His stomach twisted, bile rising in his throat. Never.

"Does he know?" His mother’s voice had lost all hope. Rin could feel it. Her grief mirrored his own.

"No," Young Master Ryuha said softly. "He was unconscious. He won’t know until he wakes."

Rin felt like screaming again, but no sound came. It was as though his entire body had been paralyzed by the weight of the truth. He was listening to his own future being torn apart, to his mother’s dreams for him being crushed underfoot.

"He’s my son, Young Master. My only son!" Lee’s voice cracked. "How am I supposed to tell him that his future... everything he worked for—"

"I don’t know," Young Master Ryuha replied. "I don’t know how to fix this."

There was a long silence. Rin imagined his mother’s face—her eyes wide with disbelief, her lips trembling. She had always been strong, but this... this would break her.

"I need to see him," she said suddenly, the sound of her footsteps quickening.

"No, wait." Young Master Ryuha's voice was firm. "Not yet. Let him rest. He will need time to recover before he hears this. Besides, you need time too."

"Time?" His mother’s voice rose again, but it was hollow, filled with pain that words couldn’t express. "There’s no time for this! How am I supposed to explain to him that everything he dreamed of... everything I dreamed of for him... is gone?"

Rin could barely breathe. Every word from his mother’s mouth was a dagger to his heart. Everything was gone. His future. His father’s legacy. His mother’s hope.

His own reason for existing.

For a long time, he lay there, too numb to cry, too broken to scream. He imagined himself in a world where he couldn’t cultivate—where he was nothing more than an ordinary person, doomed to watch others ascend while he remained stuck, powerless. The thought made him feel sick.

"Lee..." Young Master's voice was soft again. "We will find another way. I will ask the other Supremes; surely they know of a way, and if not, we will make one."

But his mother wasn’t listening. Rin could hear her breath quicken, the sobs threatening to break free. "My boy," she whispered, barely audible now. "My sweet boy."

Rin’s heart broke. Not just for himself but for his mother, for the woman who had fought so hard for him, who had sacrificed so much. And now, all of that was for nothing.

The door creaked open. Soft footsteps padded toward him, and Rin squeezed his eyes shut, pretending to still be unconscious. He couldn’t face her, not like this.

Fighting back tears, he started to pull himself up. He was angry, mad, and could not—and would not—take it out on his mother.

Not ever.

With his body still feeling worse for wear, luckily the pain from being healed was still under wraps thanks to the medicinal hall elder. He could move, and he would move. He needed to.

With effort, Rin stood and moved toward the door, feeling his strength return with every step. Before he knew it, he was running.

Rin's footsteps pounded against the cold stone path, echoing through the empty corridors of his family’s compound. His breath came in ragged bursts, his chest heaving as he pushed himself harder. Faster. As if somehow he could outrun the truth that had been spoken in that room.

He barely registered the faces of the servants he passed, the startled glances thrown his way as he bolted through the gates and into the icy night. The wind howled around him, biting into his skin, but he didn’t care. His heart felt frozen.

Suddenly, he stumbled, nearly crashing into someone, but he didn’t stop to see who it was. Sorrow clouded his vision, blurring the world around him into indistinct shapes. All he could see was the future crumbling before him. All he could hear was the Young Master's voice echoing in his mind.

"He will never cultivate."

The words stabbed into his chest like shards of ice, each syllable a jagged reminder of what he had lost. What he had never truly had to begin with.

He ran.

And ran.

The snow-covered ground blurred beneath his feet, the pain in his body a dull roar in the background. His heart ached more than any physical pain he had ever known. Not just for himself, but for his mother. For the dreams she had built for him. For the legacy he was supposed to carry. All of it... gone.

Suddenly, his body betrayed him. A sharp pain seized his muscles, and he skidded to a halt, gasping as the numbness from the painkillers began to wear off. His legs gave out, and he fell, his knees sinking into the snow. The cold seeped through his clothes, but he barely noticed.

He was crying.

Sobbing, really—deep, ragged breaths as he hunched over, pressing his forehead against the cold, hard ground. His hands clawed at the snow, desperately trying to find some kind of anchor, something solid in a world that had just collapsed around him.

His chest heaved with each sob, his mind screaming with the weight of it all. The injustice of it. The unfairness. He had trained for so long. Worked so hard. For what? To be told that he would never—could never—be what he was supposed to be?

He slammed his fists into the snow, over and over, until his knuckles were raw and bleeding. But the pain in his heart was far worse. He would never be strong enough. Never be enough. Not for his family. Not for his mother. Not even for himself.

The sobs wracked his body, each one tearing through him until he was gasping for breath, unable to hold it back any longer. The night was silent around him, save for the sound of his anguish.

"Is that you, young master Rin?"

The voice, soft and unfamiliar, cut through the haze of grief that clouded his mind. Rin's head jerked up, his tear-streaked face turning toward the sound. The figure stood just a few feet away, cloaked in shadow against the pale moonlit snow. Rin squinted, trying to make out who it was, but his vision was blurred by tears and exhaustion.

He wanted to respond, to say something—anything—but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he collapsed forward, his body finally giving in to the exhaustion and pain that had been gnawing at him since the failed cultivation.

As darkness began to creep in at the edges of his vision, Rin heard the figure approach, the soft crunch of snow underfoot. A hand rested gently on his shoulder, but Rin barely registered it. His mind was already slipping away, back into the comforting darkness where he didn’t have to face the shattered pieces of his future.

----------------------------------------

The next morning, Rin woke in an unfamiliar bed, wrapped in thick blankets that did little to chase away the cold settled deep in his bones. His body ached, every muscle screaming in protest as he tried to move. His head felt heavy. He looked around as best he could; the room was small—smaller than his own. With that thought, all the happenings of last night rushed back, and his eyes started to tear up.

So it wasn't a bad dream after all.

But the emptiness in his chest told him it was real. All of it.

His gaze drifted to the window, where the snow still fell softly outside. He didn’t want to get up. Didn’t want to face anyone. How could he? How could he look his mother in the eye after what had happened?

There was a soft knock at the door, and Rin’s heart sank. He wasn’t ready. Not yet.

But the door opened before he could say anything, and to his surprise, Lu Ri Senior, the head of the cliff wardens, walked in with a steaming cup of tea and a bowl that he suspected held some soup or maybe stew—he couldn't tell.

"Ah, Young Master, it is good to see you awake. I was worried there for a second; your body was chilled to the bone last night. I even called one of the Medicinal Hall pupils to come have a look at you," Lu Ri said, his voice warm and reassuring.

Rin didn't say much, not feeling like it, but he studied the man. Lu Ri had sun-kissed skin, silver-white hair, and ember-red eyes that suggested his family wasn't originally from the north.

Seeing as Rin wasn’t going to answer, Lu Ri kept on talking. "Well, the doctor said you need to stay in bed—"

That I would be doing anyway, Rin thought but didn’t interrupt the older man.

"He left some medicine for you to take, which I have added to the stew. I always find it easier to get medicine into the young ones if they don’t know it’s there. My son always made a fuss about taking it when he got sick, so this was what my late wife and I came up with. Kind of ingenious, wouldn’t you say, Young Master?" His expression was kind, but there was a flicker of concern in his eyes.

"Not so ingenious. Why did you tell me it was in the stew? Then I just won’t eat it," Rin answered in a brisk, annoyed tone.

Lu Ri Sr. smiled, a beaming one that lessened the worry in his eyes just a little bit.

"Aha, indeed, Young Master, but at least I got you to answer me," the man said with a jovial laugh.

"Now, Young Master, about last night—" he intoned evenly.

Rin could feel his throat start to constrict.

"I must say, after I found you last night, I was lost for what to actually do with you," he chuckled before continuing. "So at first, I brought you back home. There was quite the party going on; I was surprised to find out even Young Master Ryuha was there," he said, giving Rin two small thumbs up.

Uh, okay.

He continued, "That must have been something. Anyway, I asked one of your house servants, and they said your mother and the Young Master urgently went to the main hall of the sect for something. She didn't say much other than that, and seeing the state of the other guests, I didn't feel it was a good idea to leave an injured boy in a drunk's hands. So I brought you home. I did leave a message with your house steward, Mrs. Chuu, stating where you are and what state you’re in, but no one has come for you, so here we are," he said, putting his hands on his hips, looking ridiculous, yet still wearing that same smile.

Why did Mother leave with the Young Master? Why didn't she come after me? Why isn't she looking for me? These thoughts ran through his head at light speed, and with each one, another ache settled around his heart. Seeing the smile still on the old man's face, Rin snapped.

"Just leave!!" he shouted.

Lu Ri Sr. cocked one eyebrow, but Rin carried on.

"You should have left me in the snow. Maybe that would have been for the better. What use am I to anyone now? Just a lowly mortal, utterly useless—"

Slap!

His ears rang before his face started to sting.

"Now you listen here, boy! I will not tolerate any of that talk in my house. Now, I do not know what has got you so upset, but don’t you ever dare say something like that again, you hear me!!"

Lu Ri Sr. was inches away from Rin’s face, his sun-tanned skin pulled into a frown. Rin could swear his red eyes were alight, not just figuratively, but physically, as if his anger were burning through them.

Gulp.

Rin swallowed hard and nodded. It was the first time he had seen the older man so angry.

"Now, I do not know what you are dealing with, but if you think you do not have a place, why don’t you just join me and my son?"

Heh?

"I see you are confused. Well, as you know, I am the leader of the cliff wardens, and it just so happens we are going to be doing some more recruitment in the coming months. We always need more able-bodied men, cultivator or mortal," he said, emphasizing the last word.

The old man eyed Rin and moved toward where he left the tea and stew on the other side of the room. He picked it up and brought it to Rin. "Eat and drink. Think about what I said. Maybe in the future, you will have your chance to prove yourself."

He put the tray down in front of Rin, and Rin's gaze drifted over the food before returning to the old man. The anger that had consumed him seemed to have vanished, replaced by a warm smile on Lu Ri's face.

Why go so far for me? Rin wondered, but he pushed the thought aside. Let’s eat first.

He picked up the spoon and started eating. As the warm broth filled his mouth, he felt the tension in his shoulders begin to ease. Lu Ri's smile widened, a look of approval shining in his ember-red eyes.

"Good lad," he said, his voice warm and encouraging.