The cave was silent except for the crackle of a weak fire.
The old man leaned against the stone wall, his breath shallow, but his eyes sharp as blades.
Lian sat nearby, sorting herbs he had gathered, his movements careful.
"Boy," the old man finally spoke, his voice hoarse but commanding, "you came back."
"Yes," Lian replied quietly. "You told me to."
A faint smile curved the old man's lips. "Most would have run. Do you know what I am?"
Lian hesitated, then shook his head.
The old man chuckled, though it ended in a cough. "A cultivator. Once, I could split mountains with my blade. Now, I am broken." His gaze hardened. "But even broken, I can still see talent when it's before me."
Lian's heart skipped a beat.
"Your breathing," the man continued, "the way you carry yourself… you've already touched the Qi Core, haven't you?"
Lian froze. His hands trembled slightly. He had told no one, not even his mother. Yet this stranger had seen through him in an instant.
"Don't look so frightened," the old man rasped. "I won't betray you. On the contrary… I will teach you."
From his tattered sleeve, he pulled out two dark iron bands. They looked simple, but the moment Lian touched them, his arms sank as if they weighed boulders.
"These are weighted shackles. Wear them under your clothes. Every step, every chore, every breath will become suffering. But if you endure, your body will grow stronger than any pampered noble's."
Lian slipped them on. His shoulders nearly collapsed under the weight.
The old man's smile deepened. "Good. Now, the second lesson—concealment."
He drew a shaky breath and placed a finger against Lian's abdomen. A faint ripple of energy spread.
"There exists a breathing art that hides your cultivation. Even if a cultivator at the fourth essence probes you, they will find nothing. To the world, you will remain a servant… until the day you decide otherwise."
The words struck Lian like thunder.
A hidden strength. A secret path.
Lian bowed deeply, his forehead touching the cold cave floor. "Please, Master. Teach me."
For the first time, the old man laughed freely, the sound echoing in the cave.
"Very well, boy. From today, you are no longer just a servant. You are my disciple. Remember this—power is not given. It is stolen, hidden, and sharpened until the day it can no longer be ignored."
That night, as Lian returned to the mansion with his heavy steps, the servants mocked him for stumbling, calling him clumsy and weak.
But inside, beneath the weight of iron and the mask of servitude, a fire blazed brighter than ever.
I will endure. I will rise. And none of them will see it coming.
End of Chapter 5.