Days passed.
The clan assigned him to outer grounds labor.
No resources.
No techniques.
No future.
But something was wrong.
At night, when he sat alone…
He felt spiritual energy differently.
Others described spiritual qi as warm mist.
To him—
It felt suffocating.
Filtered.
Thin.
But when he focused on the memory of the cracked sky…
He sensed something else.
A darker current flowing above.
Beyond.
Like a hidden river.
He reached for it instinctively.
Pain exploded through his meridians.
Blood trickled from his nose.
But he did not stop.
The dark current entered his body.
It was heavier.
Sharper.
Wild.
His meridians cracked.
Then reforged.
When he opened his eyes—
The weeds around him had withered.
Corroded.
He looked at his hand.
Spiritual qi did not flow around him.
It retreated.
As if afraid.