The change in Wang Jin was not immediate, but it was perceptible. The wild, flickering spikes in his aura began to even out. The constant, pinched look of suppressed pain around his eyes softened. He no longer trained with the same frantic, self-destructive fury. His movements became more controlled, his energy emissions more focused.
He did not thank Li Yao. He did not even acknowledge him. But the violent threats ceased, replaced by a seething, silent resentment that was, in its own way, even more telling. He had accepted the bargain.
A week after the first dose, Li Yao found a small, high-quality Spirit Stone left on the floor just inside his door. No note. It was payment. An admission, in the most grudging way possible, that the service had value.
Li Yao pocketed the stone without comment. This, too, was part of the plan.
He used the resources to further his own cultivation. The Purified Qi-Gathering Pills, combined with the steady, efficient cycling of the [Breath of the Primordial Awakening], pushed him to the very peak of the Late Sub-Realm. He could feel the barrier to the Perfection Sub-Realm now—a thin, spiritual membrane that separated him from a fundamental harmonization of his body and soul. Breaking through would require a significant influx of energy and a moment of perfect clarity.
He continued to provide Wang Jin with weekly doses of the elixir, each one slightly modified. The System monitored Wang Jin's progress, adjusting the formula to not only heal the meridian but to subtly guide his Qi flow, making it more efficient, more stable. It was a superior form of cultivation guidance, forced upon an unwilling recipient. With every dose, Wang Jin's foundation grew stronger, but it was a foundation built, brick by brick, on Li Yao's knowledge.
"Target's dependency is now at 67%. He is experiencing a 15% increase in cultivation efficiency due to the guided meridian adjustments. Cognitive dissonance is high; he attributes the improvement to his own 'stabilizing willpower'."
The irony was perfect. Wang Jin was growing stronger, believing it was his own doing, all while being secretly piloted by the one he despised.
This delicate, toxic equilibrium was shattered during a sect lecture on the principles of energy containment. The instructor, a grizzled Core Formation elder, called Wang Jin to the front to demonstrate a basic containment seal.
Wang Jin, flush with his newfound stability and eager to prove himself, poured his energy into the formation circle. It glowed brightly, a testament to his abundant power. But then, the elder made a minor, unexpected adjustment to the formation, testing his adaptability.
A normal cultivator would have adjusted their flow. But Wang Jin's cultivation, for all its new stability, was still fundamentally rigid, built on force rather than finesse. The sudden change, combined with the lingering, hidden flaw in his Celestial Sun meridian, created a feedback loop.
The formation circle flared violently. Instead of a controlled containment field, a whip-crack of uncontrolled energy lashed out, straight towards the front row of disciples—where Li Yao was sitting.
It was an accident. But in that frozen moment, Li Yao saw something in Wang Jin's eyes: not shock or panic, but a fleeting, savage hope.
Li Yao didn't have time to dodge. He could only react. His body moved on instinct, guided by a thousand simulations run by the System. His hands came up, not in a block, but in a weaving motion. He didn't try to stop the energy; he embraced it, guided it, spinning it into a vortex around himself using a refined version of the [Cyclonic Qi Filtration] principle.
The wild energy scream became a controlled whirlwind around him, ruffling his robes but doing no harm before dissipating harmlessly into the air.
Silence.
The entire lecture hall stared. The elder's eyebrows were raised. Deflecting or absorbing the blast would have been impressive for a Late Essence Gathering disciple. But what Li Yao had done was different. He had tamed it. It was a display of control so refined it was unsettling.
Wang Jin stood on the platform, his face a mask of stunned fury and disbelief. His attempt, whether conscious or not, to see Li Yao humiliated or injured had backfired spectacularly, only serving to highlight the very gap in skill he was trying to deny.
The elder turned to Wang Jin, his voice cold. "Power without control is a liability, Disciple Wang. You would do well to learn from your fellow disciple's... composure." He then looked at Li Yao. "An unorthodox but effective dissipation. The [Soaring Cloud Art] does not teach such a method."
Li Yao bowed his head. "This one has always had a... fidgety spirit, Elder. I find it helpful to practice control exercises in my spare time." It was a pathetic excuse, but it was all he had.
The incident became a quiet rumor. The "servant disciple" with the strange control. Wang Jin's reputation, which had been improving, was tarnished once more, while Li Yao's stock, however cautiously, rose.
That evening, the confrontation was inevitable. Wang Jin cornered him in a secluded corridor between the dormitories and the library.
"You," he snarled, his voice low and shaking. "You set that up. You made me look like a fool on purpose!"
Li Yao looked at him, his expression devoid of fear or anger, only a weary disappointment that was somehow more insulting. "You think too highly of my influence, Young Master. I cannot control your mistakes. I can only clean up after them." He took a small vial from his pouch—the next week's elixir. "Your energy is turbulent again. The backlash from today's incident has stressed the meridian. You will need this sooner than scheduled."
He held out the vial.
Wang Jin stared at it, then at Li Yao's face. The dependency, the need, warred with his towering pride. His hand trembled as he reached for it, his fingers brushing against Li Yao's.
In that moment of physical contact, Li Yao let a sliver of his true intent show. Not malice, but absolute, unshakable certainty. "You are improving, Wang Jin. Your foundation is stronger than it has ever been. But the path is long. And you cannot walk it without me. Remember that."
He released the vial into Wang Jin's grasp and walked away, leaving the Young Master standing alone in the dim corridor, clutching the small bottle that was both his salvation and his shackles. The collar had just tightened another notch. The lesson was clear: every act of defiance, every expression of pride, would only serve to highlight his reliance on the very person he sought to surpass.
The Perfection Sub-Realm was close now. Li Yao could feel it. And with it, the next great trial on the Eternal Ascension Path: the minor spiritual test from ambient law ripples. He was no longer just managing a rival; he was preparing to take the next step in his own cosmic journey, with a bound and resentful dragon snapping at his heels.