The cave grew colder with each visit.
The firewood Lian brought barely warmed the stone walls, and the old man's cough grew harsher by the day. His once-sharp eyes dimmed, but his voice remained like steel when he spoke.
"Boy," he rasped as Lian set down a basket of herbs, "come closer."
Lian obeyed, kneeling beside him.
The old man reached into his tattered robe and pulled out a small scroll bound in faded leather. Its edges were frayed, but a faint aura of power clung to it, heavy and suffocating.
"This," the old man said, placing the scroll in Lian's hands, "is a technique forbidden to all but the desperate. Hide it well. Show it to no one. Even a glance could make men kill you where you stand."
Lian's breath caught. The scroll felt alive in his palms, humming with restrained force.
"Master… why give this to me?"
The old man's cracked lips curved into a thin smile. "Because you endure. Most boys would have thrown away those chains. Most would have cursed me for the suffering. But you…" His eyes narrowed. "You hide your strength. You swallow humiliation. That is what makes you dangerous. That is what makes you worthy."
He coughed, blood staining his sleeve, but forced himself to continue.
"Listen, boy. Strength alone is not enough. A blade in the open can be broken. But a blade hidden in the dark…" His gaze burned into Lian's. "That blade kills before the enemy even knows it's there."
Lian lowered his head, gripping the scroll tightly. The words carved themselves into his heart.
Strength is not enough. To survive, I must be patient, cunning, merciless.
The old man leaned back against the stone, his breathing shallow. "When I am gone, bury me in this mountain. Let my enemies search the world in vain. As for you… live. Carry this legacy further than I ever could."
For a long moment, silence filled the cave. The crackle of fire, the whisper of wind outside, the beating of Lian's heart—everything seemed sharper, heavier.
He pressed his forehead to the ground. "I swear, Master. I will guard this secret. I will sharpen it. And I will rise."
The old man's laughter was faint, like dry leaves in the wind. "Good… very good. Then perhaps my life was not wasted after all."
That night, as Lian walked back to the mansion, the scroll hidden beneath his robes, he felt the weight of two worlds upon his shoulders:
The iron chains of a servant… and the hidden legacy of a cultivator.
One day, he would cast off the first.
One day, he would unleash the second.
End of Chapter 9.