Mason sat quietly as Chase finished recounting his tale. For a moment, the old man said nothing. The boy was only twelve. Twelve—and already shouldering betrayal, abandonment, and exile.
Of course, Chase didn't know the full story. That the clan had sacrificed him not out of choice, but necessity. He only felt the pain of being discarded.
Mason studied him carefully. The boy's face was expressionless, his body stiff. He looked like an empty shell.
After a long pause, Mason asked, "If you had the chance to cultivate again—strong enough to walk proudly through that clan of yours—what would you do?"
Chase thought for a second. "I'd ask my parents why they betrayed me," he said flatly. Another pause. "If the answer isn't good enough… I'll leave them behind."
Mason tilted his head. "Why not kill them? They ruined your life."
"I could never kill my parents," Chase replied, voice low. "They brought me into this world… this messed up world. And the clan… it has my childhood, my friends. That part of me is still real."
A wide grin slowly spread across Mason's face, softening his naturally handsome features. Then, without warning, he grabbed Chase by the collar again.
"—Hey!" Chase shouted.
The scent of roasted meat was all that remained in the kitchen as they vanished. A moment later, they reappeared before a small cave, hidden behind a roaring waterfall.
Chase flinched at the sudden sound of rushing water. "Wait… Where are we?" he asked, startled. "Master Lu… did you just… teleport?"
Teleportation—a feat reserved for perfected air elementals. Chase remembered his father mentioning it once.
Mason chuckled. "When you can see me, you'll know."
Chase groaned. "Old Lu, stop messing with me. You're the one who said I was blind, and now you're teasing me about seeing you? Really?"
He grumbled under his breath, "I swear, I feel like punching this old man in the—"
"Old!?" Mason barked in a completely different, youthful voice.
Chase blinked. "Wait. Who was that? Is someone else here?"
"Your father's old! Your whole family is old!" Mason huffed.
Chase winced. "It's not my fault your voices don't match! One's all raspy and mysterious, the other's like a pretty boy!"
Mason grumbled something incomprehensible.
"…So what, you faked your voice just to be spooky? Why?"
"That's none of your business, brat," Mason snapped, clearly done with the conversation. He grabbed Chase's hand and led him forward. "Now shut up and follow me."
They approached the cave's mouth. "Walk straight until the water reaches your knees," Mason instructed. "Then sit and absorb the energy. Let it enter through your pores. It'll repair your broken meridians—and make them stronger than before."
Chase blinked. "Wait, really?"
Mason continued, ignoring the boy's awe. "The pond is a rare treasure. The Spring's Tears—it forms from ancient spring residue, merged with water-element energy. I was saving it for myself… but this is your chance."
He turned. "You have three days. Don't waste them. You won't need food; the energy will feed and rebuild you. I'll return then."
Before Chase could respond, Mason vanished once again.
Chase stood frozen, Mason's words echoing in his mind. "I will be able to cultivate again…"
A tear slid down his cheek. Then another. He buried his face in his hands and cried—not like a child, but like someone who'd held it in for too long.
When the tears dried, he stood straight. Determination burned in his chest. He clenched his fists and walked forward into the cave, step by steady step.
The passage was narrow, dark, and cold. But Chase didn't falter.
After ten minutes, he felt cool water beneath his feet. It shimmered faintly with bluish light, illuminating the cavern around him. Chase, blind to the light, could only feel the faint ripple of energy around his body.
The water rose to his knees. He sat down and began absorbing the energy, just as Mason had instructed.
At first, it felt refreshing—like soaking in a warm bath.
Then the pain started.
Chase gritted his teeth as the energy tore through him, breaking down his insides: his meridians, bones, organs, even his blood vessels. Black, foul-smelling fluid oozed from his pores, quickly dissolving into steam as it touched the sacred water.
Old man never said it'd hurt this much...
He clenched his jaw, determined to endure. The process was brutal—but his will remained unbroken.
The cave was still, save for the quiet sound of rippling water. A boy sat in a luminous pond, suffering in silence. The image was hauntingly beautiful, like a painting of pain and rebirth.
Then—Mason returned.
He appeared by the edge of the pond, watching quietly. After a while, he sat on a nearby rock and stared at the boy.
A soft look crossed his face.
"You remind me of him…" he murmured. "My son. Born blind. Murdered two centuries ago after discovering a forbidden martial art…"
He sighed, then waved his hand. A black zither appeared across his legs. Mason began to play.
A slow, melodic tune echoed through the cave. It was a song of sorrow, strength, and solitude. As it reached Chase's ears, the boy's expression softened. The pain dulled.
Unbeknownst to him, the music carried information—secrets—etched into his mind. He began absorbing the pond's energy even faster, guided by the melody.
Mason's face paled. Blood trickled from his lips.
"This art can only be passed once," he whispered. "After this… I won't be able to again. Don't disappoint me—or him… brat."
Now the painting was complete.
A young boy, broken but enduring.
A man in white robes, hair black as midnight, fingers dancing over a zither, bleeding quietly for the next generation.
When the song ended, the zither vanished. Mason conjured a few herbs midair, then snapped his fingers. A controlled flame began refining them. After a dozen minutes, two glowing blue pills emerged from the fire. He swallowed one and stored the other.
Then he sat in silence, waiting.
Three days passed.
At noon on the third day, Mason opened his eyes.
A ripple stirred in the pond.
Chase rose slowly from the blackened water, his expression blank, his eyes still grey and lifeless. Yet his steps were steady—and he moved directly toward Mason, as though he could see him.
Mason's smile returned.
"He learned it…" he murmured.
Chase knelt and pressed his head to the ground.
"Disciple greets Master."
Mason reached forward, helping him up. "Brat… your journey begins now."
Chase muttered under his breath, "…Still brat, huh."
Mason grinned.
"Obviously."