Don centere himself and started the first cycle.
Cycle One: Severing Fear.
Inhale for three seconds—pulling mana from the Abyss itself, crimson and corrupted but pure energy nonetheless. The black energy responded to his will, flowing into his channels.
Hold for six seconds—compressing the energy in his core, building pressure, preparing for the work ahead.
Exhale for nine seconds—pushing the compressed energy through his soul in the prescribed pattern, feeling it move through channels he'd never accessed before.
3-6-9. The ratio of severance.
With each breath cycle, Don visualized the emotional thread as the technique prescribed. In his mind's eye, he could see it—a golden cord connecting his heart to the concept of Fear itself. Thick, pulsing, alive with the weight of every terrified moment he'd ever experienced.
The torture. The cage. The demons. The constant threat of death.
All of it anchored in that single golden thread.
And with each exhale, Don visualized scissors—cold, steel, absolute—cutting into that thread. Snip. Snip. Snip.
Not removing the thread entirely. That would come later, when Emotion Suppression ended and everything returned. But severing it. Separating it.
Making the sacrifice real in this moment, in this space, during this technique.
The cultivation method didn't care about later. It cared about now.
And right now, Don was cutting away Fear.
He continued the breath pattern. Over and over. The same ratio. The same visualization. The scissors cutting deeper with each cycle until finally—
The thread severed completely.
Fear disconnected from his heart, floating free in his mind's eye before dissolving into golden mist.
[CYCLE 1 COMPLETE: FEAR SEVERED]
[TIME REMAINING: 42 MINUTES]
Don opened his eyes briefly, checking his status. His mana had dropped—the technique consumed energy with each breath—but he had plenty remaining.
[MANA: 810/1150]
Sufficient. More than sufficient.
He closed his eyes again and immediately began Cycle Two.
Cycle Two: Severing Anger.
The same breath pattern. 3-6-9. Inhale, hold, exhale. But this time, the visualization changed.
The emotional thread was red instead of golden. Thick as rope, pulsing with heat, connecting his heart to every moment of rage he'd ever felt.
The Blood King's mockery. The Doctor's clinical torture. The demons' cruelty. The unfairness of being twelve years old and fighting for survival in a place designed to break souls.
All of it bound in that crimson thread.
Don visualized the scissors again. Cold steel cutting through burning rage. Snip. Snip. Snip.
With each exhale, the thread weakened. Frayed. Began to separate.
The anger at his enemies. The fury at his situation. The burning desire for vengeance—all of it severing, piece by piece, breath by breath.
Until finally, the thread parted completely.
Anger disconnected. Dissolved. Gone.
[CYCLE 2 COMPLETE: ANGER SEVERED]
[TIME REMAINING: 35 MINUTES]
Don didn't pause. Couldn't afford to. Emotion Suppression had a duration limit, and he needed to complete all seven cycles before it ended.
Cycle Three: Severing Joy.
This thread was different. Pale yellow, almost white, delicate compared to the others. It connected to memories that Don—in his current emotionless state—could observe with perfect clarity but feel nothing toward.
His father's smile.
The warmth of safety before everything changed. Small moments of happiness that seemed impossibly distant now.
The scissors cut through the delicate thread easily. Too easily.
Joy severed without resistance.
[CYCLE 3 COMPLETE: JOY SEVERED]
[TIME REMAINING: 28 MINUTES]
Cycle Four: Severing Love.
Pink thread. Warm. Connected to... Don paused in his visualization, examining what he saw.
The Source. That presence in his chest that had been with him since awakening. Warm. Protective. Almost motherly in its care.
The thread connected him to that warmth. To the being that had given him power, guided him.
Don's scissors cut without hesitation.
Snip.
The thread parted. The warmth in his chest—already distant due to Emotion Suppression—became even more remote. Not gone entirely, but... separated. Disconnected.
[CYCLE 4 COMPLETE: LOVE SEVERED]
[TIME REMAINING: 21 MINUTES]
[Don... what are you doing...?]
The Source's voice was faint, worried, barely able to reach him.
Don didn't answer. Couldn't afford distraction. Three more cycles remained.
Cycle Five: Severing Hope.
Blue thread. The thinnest one yet, fragile as spider silk.
It connected to dreams. To the possibility of survival. To the idea that things could get better, that he could escape this place, that meaning existed beyond mere survival.
The scissors cut.
Hope severed.
Future became probability calculations.
Nothing more.
[CYCLE 5 COMPLETE: HOPE SEVERED]
[TIME REMAINING: 14 MINUTES]
Cycle Six: Severing Despair.
Black thread. Thick. Heavy. The opposite of hope but equally binding.
It connected to every moment of helplessness. Every time he'd felt crushed by circumstances beyond his control.
The weight of knowing he might die here, that his power might not be enough, that the Abyss might consume him.
Don cut through it methodically. The black thread resisted more than the others—despair clung stubbornly—but the scissors were inexorable.
Snip. Snip. Snip.
Until it finally parted.
Despair severed.
The crushing weight lifted. Not because he'd overcome it, but because he couldn't feel it anymore.
[CYCLE 6 COMPLETE: DESPAIR SEVERED]
[TIME REMAINING: 7 MINUTES]
One cycle left.
The most important one.
Cycle Seven: Severing Self-Preservation.
This thread was different from all the others.
Emerald green, pulsing with life force, screaming at him to stop.
This was the deepest instinct. The fundamental drive to survive, to flee danger, to protect one's own existence above all else.
Every living thing had this thread. Removing it meant removing the basic will to live.
Most cultivators never touched this one. They sacrificed other things—senses, memories, years—but not this. Never this.
Because severing self-preservation meant becoming something that could walk calmly toward death if logic demanded it.
Don visualized the scissors.
And began cutting.
The thread resisted. Pulsed. Fought back with everything it had. His body trembled despite Emotion Suppression. His hands shook.
Some deep, primal part of his brain recognized what he was doing and screamed in protest.
But Don's will was absolute.
He was emotion-suppressed. He was logical. He was tactical.
And this thread needed to be cut.
Snip.
Snip.
SNIP.
The emerald thread parted with an almost audible snap that echoed in Don's soul.
Self-preservation severed.
The instinct to survive—gone.
Death became acceptable if tactically necessary. Life became another resource to spend if the situation required it.
[CYCLE 7 COMPLETE: SELF-PRESERVATION SEVERED]
[ALL EMOTIONAL THREADS SEVERED]
[TIME REMAINING: 0 MINUTES]
[PREPARING FINAL BREATH SEQUENCE]