Tick. Tick. Tick.
The wall clock marked the slow crawl of time. Rain trickled down the window, smearing the neon lights of the city into hazy streaks of red and gold.
Dr. Wen Liang leaned back in his chair, pen resting lightly between his fingers. Across from him, a middle-aged man sat hunched, tie loosened, eyes bloodshot from sleepless nights.
"…and now my manager says if I miss one more deadline, I'm finished. My wife's losing patience, my son barely looks at me. I can't sleep. My heart keeps pounding. I'm one step away from collapse!"
The man's voice trembled, words tumbling out in a frantic rush. Wen Liang let him speak, nodding gently, studying the way his hands twisted together, the way his knee bounced uncontrollably.
When the flood of words slowed, Wen Liang spoke. Calm. Steady. His voice a thread through the storm.
"I hear you. That sounds unbearable. But… let's set aside the deadlines and the boss for a moment. Tell me—when you lie awake at night, what's the thought that never leaves?"
The man froze, breath caught in his throat. Silence stretched. Finally, he whispered, "That I'm not good enough. That no matter what I do… I'll never be enough."
There it was. The root. The demon.
Wen Liang smiled faintly. "That voice in your head—it isn't truth. It's fear. A stubborn, cruel liar that's been whispering to you for years. What happens if you stop treating it like truth, and start treating it like noise?"
The man blinked. Something in his expression cracked—confusion, then relief, as if a dam had burst. For the first time, his shoulders lowered.
By the time the session ended, he looked lighter. Tired, but lighter. He shook Wen Liang's hand firmly, eyes shining with gratitude.
"Thank you, Dr. Wen. I… I think I can breathe again."
When he left, the office felt quieter. Wen Liang tidied up the notes, turned off the lamp, and chuckled to himself.
"Another demon fought, and no sword required. Not bad."
He grabbed his umbrella and stepped out into the storm.
The streets were nearly empty, rain hammering the asphalt. Wen Liang walked quickly, lost in thought. Maybe he'd grab noodles on the way home. Maybe he'd finally catch up on that old movie.
A screech split the night.
Headlights. Tires skidding. A delivery truck spinning out of control.
He had just enough time to mutter, "Oh, hell—" before the world turned white.
When he woke, it wasn't to fluorescent lights or a hospital ceiling.
He lay on damp earth beneath a sky littered with unfamiliar stars. And above—two moons, pale and silver, hung side by side.
"What…" His voice cracked. He sat up sharply. Around him, strange trees rose high, their leaves glowing faintly as if painted with starlight. Flowers pulsed with a rhythm that almost felt like breathing. The air itself was thick, humming with unseen energy.
"This isn't… This can't…" His heart pounded. "I transmigrated? Like in those ridiculous novels?"
He slapped his cheek. Pain flared. The world didn't fade.
"Shit. This is real."
A rustle. Branches snapping.
Wen Liang turned. A young man stumbled out of the forest, robes torn, face pale with sweat. Strange cracks of light crawled across his skin, pulsing in time with his frantic heartbeat.
"No… no… my dao heart is collapsing! If I fail the breakthrough, I'll…!"
He collapsed to his knees, gasping, clawing at his chest.
Wen Liang stared. "Dao… what?"
But he didn't need to understand. The boy's trembling hands, the wild panic in his eyes, the ragged breath—it was all too familiar. He'd seen it dozens of times. This was a panic attack.
Instinct overrode confusion. Wen Liang dropped to his side, voice calm but firm.
"Look at me. Breathe with me. In… and out. Slowly. That's it. Focus on my voice."
The youth's eyes flicked toward him, desperate, terrified. "I… I hear whispers… telling me I'm worthless… that I'll never surpass Senior Brother… that my master will abandon me—"
Wen Liang gripped his shoulder. "That voice isn't truth. It's fear. Fear always lies. You've trained, haven't you? Worked for this moment? That doesn't disappear because of doubt."
The boy's breath hitched. His whole body shook. But Wen Liang pressed on, grounding him, challenging the spiral.
"Your thoughts are clouds. You are the sky. Let them pass. Don't fight them. Just… let them drift away."
The words, simple in his clinic, rang strangely here. The air seemed to ripple, faint vibrations humming with each syllable. As if the world itself agreed.
The youth gasped. The glowing cracks across his skin pulsed, then began to seal. His aura flared—unstable, chaotic, but growing steadier with every breath.
"Your worth isn't decided by others," Wen Liang said, his voice low, resonant. "Not by your master. Not by your rivals. Not even by your fear. You decide your worth."
The clearing shuddered.
Light erupted from the young man, spiritual energy flooding outward like a storm unleashed. The earth trembled. The air bent. Wen Liang staggered back, shielding his eyes as the impossible unfolded before him.
The boy roared, aura surging higher and higher, breaking past some unseen barrier. Power radiated from him in waves.
Then silence.
The boy collapsed forward, breathing hard, but his eyes blazed with exhilaration. "I—I did it! I broke through! My bottleneck is gone!"
He turned to Wen Liang, awe and tears mingling. Then, without hesitation, he pressed his forehead to the ground.
"Master, please accept my bow! You saved my dao heart! Your words… they were like thunder striking the heavens. What profound Dao do you cultivate?"
Wen Liang's jaw dropped. "I—I'm not a master. I'm not anything! I'm just a therapist!"
The boy blinked, confusion in his eyes. "Ther-pist? Is that some hidden immortal path?"
Wen Liang rubbed his temples. His brain screamed for logic, for normalcy. But the glowing plants, the trembling earth, the two moons above—none of it was normal. None of it could be denied.
His words had shattered some invisible wall inside this stranger. His ordinary therapy session had become a revelation, a Dao truth.
"This… this can't be real," he whispered. "I was hit by a truck. I was supposed to be dead. Why here? Why me?"
But the boy looked at him with pure devotion. "Master Therapist, please guide me further! If a single phrase from you can banish demons, then surely… surely you walk the supreme Dao of the Heart!"
Wen Liang stared up at the alien sky, moons gleaming like silver coins.
He had no cultivation. No sword. No pills. Only words.
And somehow, in this impossible world, those words had become power.
"This… this is insane," he muttered.
And yet… maybe, just maybe, he could survive here.
Not as a warrior. Not as an alchemist.
But as a therapist.