At dawn, Lorian Vale rose to find a bowl of silver ear and lotus seed congee waiting on his table—a nourishing dish far beyond what any inn would serve its guests. He knew at once it was Evan Reed's handiwork. Though his advanced cultivation rendered such mundane fare useless for healing, the thoughtfulness behind it warmed him. Besides, the congee was expertly prepared, its taste a quiet delight worth savoring.
After breakfast, Evan Reed came to pay his respects and asked about Lorian Vale's plans moving forward. The question caught Lorian off guard. He had fled here to escape pursuit, with no set destination, simply drifting wherever his feet carried him. Now, in Anyang Prefecture at the eastern edge of the land, the only path ahead was the boundless sea. Was he to flee to some forsaken island?
Noticing his hesitation, Evan spoke up. "If True Master Lorian has no specific place in mind, I have a suggestion. Why not buy a house nearby—a quiet spot to rest and recover?"
"Buy a house?" Lorian Vale blinked in surprise.
"Yes. If it's about money, True Master needn't worry. I've got some silver saved up, enough for a modest place."
"But that's your money."
"Those horses came from the bandits you cut down," Evan replied evenly. "It's only fair you claim a share." His tone remained respectful, though he subtly shifted from "True Master Lorian" to just "Master Lorian."
Lorian didn't catch the change. "I'm not suited to settle here long," he said, wavering.
"When you're ready to move on, we'll sell it," Evan countered. "Besides, Master Lorian, you're unwell and alone. I'm planning to find work around here—I can look after you in my spare time."
Having reached Anyang Prefecture, Evan had sized up Lorian Vale: a man without a plan. Better to keep him close. To study cultivation under him, Evan needed proximity. If Lorian left, Evan would have to follow, but trailing too closely without cause might expose his intentions. While those motives would surface eventually, it was wiser to delay until trust had deepened. If he couldn't tag along, he'd convince Lorian to stay.
Lorian, oblivious to Evan's calculations, was tangled in thoughts of karmic debt. Leaving now would leave it unpaid—better to follow Evan's advice and settle down. But that meant living off Evan's coin, piling on more obligation. Or perhaps, as Evan claimed, the money was partly his, tied to those bandit horses. Yet that logic faltered: he'd abandoned them—did picking up scraps entitle him to a cut? By that reasoning, every scavenger would be a thief's target. And if not here, where? Even the inn bills were on Evan's tab.
The muddle made his head ache. With a weary wave, he left it to Evan to sort out.
Evan moved fast. In two days, he secured a place: an old estate downstream of Wind Veil Crossing, outside Anyang Prefecture. Its former owner, fallen on hard times, had let it go for a hundred and fifty taels of silver. The deal was straightforward—a local elder witnessed the contract, and with silver handed over, it was done. The deed bore Evan's name, though the elder scribbled "Tang Jie" without asking. Evan considered correcting it but held back. A new world, a new name—safer that way.
When Lorian Vale arrived, he found the house modest yet charming: two courtyards, six main rooms, tucked away in solitude. Backed by Little Origin Mountain and facing the Willow Leaf River, it was a scenic haven—perfect for healing. Best of all, the area brimmed with spiritual energy. Sensing this wasn't random, he pressed Evan, who confirmed he'd chosen it for that very reason.
"This family once grew spirit grain for an immortal sect," Evan explained. "Their heirs let it waste away, but a place fit for spirit grain has rich spiritual energy—immortals don't misjudge these things. Plus, the roads here branch out nicely, which could suit you."
By "suit," he meant escape routes if pursuers came. Lorian was floored. The room Evan had prepared was spotless, a study nearby stocked with a desk and writing tools, and a courtyard outside ideal for cultivation. The boy had thought of everything.
For a long moment, Lorian studied him anew. "Young as you are, your mind's sharp as a blade," he finally said. From then on, Evan intrigued him—he no longer felt the urge to part ways. A quiet hunch grew: with this kid around, life might just get easier.
So began their stay at the Wind Veil Crossing estate. Evan moved in too—after all, he wasn't about to buy a house for Lorian and sleep elsewhere. With funds dwindling after furnishing the place, he took a job in Anyang Prefecture to keep them afloat. Days in the city, nights back home cooking, washing, and tidying—Evan handled it all. Lorian had only to meditate and mend.
Sometimes, Lorian sat alone, turning that old bronze mirror in his hands, staring as if it held secrets, though he usually ended with a sigh. Evan's care was a balm; he foresaw needs Lorian hadn't even voiced. Day by day, Lorian grew used to it. As the saying goes, "Too many lice, no itch; too many debts, no worry." Eventually, he stopped fretting over what he owed.
Half a month slipped by, their rapport easing into something familiar.
That night, Lorian practiced the Hidden Form Sutra in the courtyard, Evan watching as usual. When Lorian finished, Evan brought tea with a smile. "Congrats, Big Brother Lorian—your strength's returning."
Their bond had warmed; "Big Brother" came naturally now.
"Just a third restored," Lorian said, taking the cup. "Wait—how'd you spot it this time?"
"You used to stop at eleven forms," Evan replied. "Tonight, you did twelve. Before, it wasn't unwillingness—your strength just fell short. Doing all twelve means you're healing."
Lorian nodded, unfazed by Evan's keen eye. "The Hidden Form Sutra's twelve forms boost spiritual energy. My qi and blood were too weak before to finish it. Now, with my wounds easing, I can." He glanced at Evan. "Thanks to your care, I've had no distractions."
"So, mastering it will flush out that invasive energy and heal you fully?" Evan asked, eager.
"Not quite. It's just a foundational art—good for basics, not major healing."
"But you're a True Master of the Heavenly Heart Realm—why revisit the basics? Oh—did you slack off as a kid and skip the groundwork?"
"Rubbish!" Lorian snapped. "The Hidden Form Sutra may be foundational, but its roots run deep. It's about entering the divine through the heart, where will shapes thought; merging body with the Dao, hiding essence, shedding the trivial; letting qi flow free through every channel…" He launched into a passionate spiel about its origins and virtues, even slipping into reciting bits of its mantra. Catching himself, he glared at Evan. "You little trickster—fishing for my words again."
Time had sharpened his read on Evan. The boy wasn't naive—he played the fool to pry out cultivation secrets. By now, Evan had gleaned plenty, even snagging scraps of the sutra's chants. But Lorian didn't mind much. Evan's devotion had won him over; their connection softened his guard. He let himself be "duped" because he chose to. Besides, he figured the sutra was too arcane for Evan to grasp fully from fragments—not that he'd mastered it himself despite his rank. A tidy bit of self-delusion, that.
Evan just grinned at the scolding, all innocent charm. Lorian wasn't fooled but let it slide, trading a few more words before heading to bed.
As he left, Evan's smile faded, his gaze turning deep and unreadable. He whispered, "Enter the divine through the heart, where will shapes thought; merge body with the Dao, hide essence, shed the trivial; let qi flow free through every channel…" He stepped into the sutra's opening stance, arms raised in an odd, ancient pose.
Each night, when Lorian rested, Evan practiced here alone—his only chance. He'd memorized the first eleven forms from watching, drilling them until they felt second nature. Every session left him refreshed, like his channels were clearing, but the missing twelfth form kept him short of mastery. Tonight, having seen it, he flowed through all twelve effortlessly, as if his body had been primed for it. The movements came smooth as a river.
A faint thread of energy stirred in his qi cavity. Sensing spiritual energy through the sutra thrilled him—he ran through it again. It grew easier each time, the energy swelling. What started as a hunch solidified after three rounds; it was real.
New to cultivation, ignorant of its risks, Evan's excitement drove him on. The energy surged, pooling in his gut. Too late, he sensed trouble and stopped. Instantly, it rebelled, tearing through his channels. Bliss turned to torment—he'd crashed from heaven to hell. Blood leaked from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth, seeping from his very pores. Pain gnawed like ants, and a wild surge hit his head, buzzing like a hammer on his skull.
Death loomed. With all he had, he shouted, "Big Brother Lorian!"
Lorian burst out, eyes widening at the sight. "Jade Gate Heavenly Surge? How?"