Xiao Yan left the hall with an expression of studied indifference, his mind drifting elsewhere. By habit, he climbed slowly up the mountain behind the clan's estate, and when he reached the top he sat himself upon a rock ledge, quietly gazing at the precipitous peaks veiled in mist across the way. Over there lay the renowned Wild Beast Mountain Ranges of the Jia Ma Empire.
"Heh, strength…" His shoulders shuddered with a bitter, self-mocking laugh that carried a mixture of grief and anger, winding slowly about the summit. "In this world, a man without strength isn't even worth a pile of dog shit—and at least no one dares step on that."
He drove his fingers through his black hair, his teeth biting hard into his lower lip, letting the faint taste of blood spread across his mouth. He had betrayed nothing improper in the great hall, but every one of Nalan Yanran's words had been like a knife carving into his heart, until his whole body trembled with the pain of it.
"I won't endure this humiliation a second time!" He spread his left hand, upon which a thin line of blood still showed, and his voice came out hoarse yet resolute.
"Hey there, little one—looks like you could use a hand?"
Just as Xiao Yan was sealing that vow within his heart, a strange, ancient cackle suddenly rang out in his ears.
His face stiffened. He whirled around, his hawk-sharp gaze sweeping the ground behind him—yet found no trace of anyone.
"Heh heh, no need to search. I'm on your finger."
Xiao Yan was about to chalk it up to a trick of the mind when that bizarre laughter drifted out again, as if coming from nowhere at all.
His pupils contracted. His gaze snapped down to his right hand… to the ancient black ring upon it. "Was it you who spoke?" He suppressed the terror surging through him, forcing his voice to remain steady.
"Not bad, little one—a solid nerve, not to have leapt off the cliff in fright." A mocking laugh issued from within the ring.
"Who are you? Why are you inside my ring? What do you want?" After a moment of silence, Xiao Yan asked the key questions with crisp clarity.
"Never mind who I am. All you need to know is that I won't harm you. Hah, all these years—I've finally stumbled upon someone whose soul is strong enough to feed me. What luck! Though I suppose I ought to thank you first, little one, for these past three years of offerings. Without them, I might have gone on sleeping for who knows how long yet."
"Offerings?" Xiao Yan blinked in confusion, and then a moment later his young face darkened abruptly, the bitter words grinding out between his teeth: "So it was your doing—my Dou Qi, vanishing from my body all this while?"
"Heh, I was left with no choice, boy. Don't blame me."
"Blame you? You rotting, thieving—!"
The boy pride had always considered himself calm and composed, but now he flew into a frenzy like some madman, his face twisting with ferocity. Heedless of the fact that the ring was a keepsake his mother had left him, he ripped it without hesitation from his finger and hurled it with all his might over the steep precipice.
The moment it left his hand, his mind cleared in a flash, and he lunged to catch it—but the ring had already vanished into the chasm below.
Stunned, Xiao Yan stared at the spot where the ring had disappeared into the fog. For a long while he stood there, dazed, then slowly settled his face. He slapped his forehead in annoyance. "Fool! Too impulsive, far too impulsive!"
That it had taken him three years to learn that the very culprit behind his humiliation had been the ring he wore daily—no wonder he had lost his head like this.
He sat by the cliff's edge for quite some time before shaking his head ruefully and climbing to his feet. As he turned, his eyes bulged. His finger rose, trembling, to point at what stood before him.
Hanging in the air before him was the pitch-black antique ring. But what truly stunned him was the transparent old man's figure drifting above it.
"Heh heh. No need for such a rage, little one. All I did was absorb three years' worth of your Dou Qi." The translucent old man watched Xiao Yan, whose mouth hung open in shock, with a broad grin.
The corner of Xiao Yan's mouth twitched, anger throttled inside his voice: "Old wretch—if you were hiding in the ring all along, then you must know how much mockery your stealing cost me."
"But didn't you grow, through those three years of mockery?" The old man shrugged without committing to anything, and said flatly, "Do you think that three years ago you would have possessed the forbearance and the sharpness of mind you have now?"
Xiao Yan frowned, his mood gradually settling. Once the rage had burned itself out, relief washed in behind it. Now that he knew the mystery of his vanishing Dou Qi, surely his talent had already returned!
At the mere thought that he might finally cast off the title of cripple, his body felt reborn, light as air. Even that detestable old man before him no longer seemed quite so hateful.
There are things whose true worth you only understand when you have lost them. To regain what was lost makes it all the more precious.
Xiao Yan flexed his wrists, let out a long breath, and lifted his head. "I don't know who you are, whatever you say. But let me ask you: do you mean to keep hiding in that ring and drinking up my Dou Qi? If that's your plan, I'd advise you to go find yourself another host—I can't afford to keep you."
"Heh, no one else has a soul as keen as yours." The old man stroked a wisp of his beard, smiling. "Since I've chosen to show myself, I naturally won't absorb your Dou Qi again without your permission."
Xiao Yan rolled his eyes, snorting coldly without replying. He had made up his mind: no matter what honeyed words this old devil spun, the man was not to remain at his side.
"Little one, do you want to grow strong? Do you want to earn the respect of others?" Though he had already mentally crossed the old man off as someone not to be tangled with, Xiao Yan's heart still gave an involuntary lurch at those words.
"Now that I know why my Dou Qi vanished, with my talent, do I even need you to grow strong?" Xiao Yan drew a slow breath and answered flatly, for he knew well there was no such thing as a free lunch. To accept a stranger's favor for no reason at all was no wise decision.
"Ah, little one, talent alone is all very well—but you ought to know you're already fifteen, with only the third stage of Dou Qi to show for it. I hear you've got your coming-of-age ceremony next year, is that right? Do you really think, in a single year, you could shoot up to the seventh stage by dint of plain, hard cultivation? And then there's that girl you wagered with not so long ago—her talent isn't a hair below yours. You'd like to catch her and pass her, do you? That's easier said than done." The old man's wrinkled face creased into a bloom of satisfaction.
"If not for you stealing my Dou Qi, would she have been able to humiliate me like that? You filthy old bastard!" Prodded at his sore spot, Xiao Yan's face darkened again, and he cursed through gritted teeth in a fury.
Once the storm of curses was spent, Xiao Yan slumped again, defeated. However much he railed, it changed nothing. In cultivating Dou Qi, foundations were everything. He had started training the Breath at four years old, and it had taken six solid years to reach the ninth stage. Even if his talent had now returned, rising to the seventh stage within a single year was all but impossible.
With a disconsolate sigh, Xiao Yan eyed the transparent old man, who was doing his best to look inscrutable, and something clicked. He pursed his lips. "You have a way then, don't you?"
"Perhaps," the old man answered with a vague, sly laugh.
"Help me reach the seventh stage of Dou Qi in one year, and what you took from me these past three years—we'll call it settled between us. Deal?" Xiao Yan probed.
"Heh heh, a sharp bargainer, aren't you, little one."
"If you're of no help to me, why carry a freeloader at my side? Perhaps the good elder ought to find himself some other unfortunate soul to bestow his favor upon…" Xiao Yan sneered. In this short exchange, he had come to see that this transparent old man could not simply devour just anyone's Dou Qi.
"You don't seem one bit like a boy of fifteen. These three years truly have tempered you. I suppose this is what I reap for the harm I've been sowing?" The old man was taken aback by the slippery boy, then shook his head, caught between laughter and tears.
Xiao Yan spread his hands and said coolly, "If you want me to keep supporting you, you'll have to show me some good faith, won't you?"
"A sharp-tongued little wretch, aren't you. Very well, very well—after all, there is still something this old man needs from you." The old man nodded helplessly, lowering himself to the ground. He sized Xiao Yan up for several glances, and a sly smirk passed swiftly across his face before it vanished again. After a moment's hesitation, as if it cost him a real struggle to part with the words, he spoke at last. "Would you like to become an alchemist?"