The surface air, thin and gritty, had never tasted so sweet. Li Wei dragged it into his lungs, each breath a painful reminder of the gash across his chest. The wound was sealed, but the memory of the spiritual ice that caused it was burned into his flesh and his mind.
He pushed himself up, his body screaming in protest. Every muscle was a bruise. Old Man Huang was in a similar state, leaning against rusted machinery, his face pale with exhaustion and shock.
"We need to move," Li Wei said, his voice hoarse. "He'll come. He'll find a way out."
Huang nodded mutely, his eyes wide. The encounter had stripped away his reverent awe, replacing it with raw, animal fear. The cultivator wasn't a figure from a legend; he was a predator.
The Seed within Li Wei was a dull, dormant ember. The frantic bursts of energy that had saved them had drained it nearly dry. He could feel its presence, but it was faint, like a heartbeat heard through a thick wall. It was sleeping.
They were on their own.
Li Wei's scavenger instincts took over. Shelter. Water. Assess threats. He oriented himself by the hazy sun and the skeletal skyline. Settlement 47 was a two-day trek to the south—the obvious direction to go, and therefore the first place their hunter would look.
"We're not going back to the settlement," Li Wei stated.
"Where then?" Huang asked, his voice trembling.
"North. Into the deep ruins. More cover. More places to hide."
It was a risk. The deep ruins were unstable and harbored larger, more dangerous beasts. But it was a better risk than waiting for Senior Brother Feng to catch them on open ground.
They moved, sticking to the shadows of crumbling walls. Li Wei's mind was locked on the memory of Feng's sneer, the casual flick of his wrist that had shattered stone.
Power.
That was the difference. The Seed had that power, but it was wild, untamed. He had to learn to touch it, to ask for its help, not just wait for it to react in panic.
As they walked, he turned his focus inward. He focused on the dim warmth in his core.
Hello? he thought, feeling foolish. Can you hear me?
No response. No pulse.
He tried again, picturing the energy he'd felt.
I need to understand, he pleaded silently. I can't protect us like this. I can't protect you.
A flicker. So faint he thought he imagined it. The barest tremor of heat.
Encouraged, he kept at it as they trudged. He wasn't trying to draw power out, not yet. He was just trying to listen.
Hours later, as the orange sky deepened into a bruised purple, they found shelter: the shell of an ancient ground-transport, its windows gone and interior picked clean, tucked under a collapsed overpass.
Huang collapsed inside, immediately falling into an exhausted sleep.
Li Wei sat by a gap in the hull, keeping watch. The gnawing hunger in his stomach was a sharp pain. Their water was almost gone.
He returned his focus to the Seed. This time, he didn't ask for power. He offered something.
He took a small, precious sip of water. Instead of swallowing, he held it in his mouth, focusing on the sensation of life it represented. He pictured that sensation flowing down into the dormant Seed.
This is all I have to give, he thought. But I share it with you.
For a long moment, nothing.
Then, a soft, grateful warmth bloomed in his center. Weak, but unmistakably aware. It was like a small animal nudging his hand.
The Seed was awake.
Emboldened, Li Wei tried again. He picked up a small, rusted bolt from the floor. He held it in his palm.
Please. Just a little. Heat this.
He visualized the energy as a single root, stretching from his core, down his arm, and into the cold metal.
The warmth responded. A trickle, a thin stream of heat flowing along the path he'd envisioned. Deliberate. Controlled.
In his palm, the bolt grew warm. Then hot. A faint wisp of steam rose. It glowed, just for a second, a dull, cherry red.
The effort was immense. A wave of dizziness washed over him, and the connection snapped. The bolt clattered to the floor, its heat fading.
He was exhausted, more than from the long march. The warmth in his core dimmed noticeably.
But triumph surged through him.
He had done it. Not by accident. He had asked, and the Seed had answered. He had directed its energy with intention.
It was a tiny thing. Heating a bolt was meaningless against a cultivator's power. But it was a foundation. The first, most important lesson.
The power wasn't his to command. It was a partnership. He provided the intent, the direction. The Seed provided the energy. It required balance. He could draw too much, depleting them both. He could also feed it, strengthen it.
He looked at his sleeping companion, at their near-empty canteen, and out at the hostile, dying world.
The path ahead was longer and more difficult than he had ever imagined. He needed to learn to cultivate, to grow the Seed's energy and his own ability to wield it.
He needed to learn how to make a dead world live again, starting with the spark inside himself.
As the first of the twin moons rose, casting a sickly green light over the ruins, a new sound reached his ears. It wasn't the skittering of beasts.
It was the crisp, clean sound of a boot stepping on gravel.
Then another.
Approaching their shelter.
Li Wei's blood went cold. He shook Huang awake, clapping a hand over the old man's mouth to stifle a cry.
The footsteps stopped right outside the broken hull of the transport.
A young, nervous voice spoke, barely a whisper.
"I know you're in there. Please. Don't make a sound. He's looking for you."