Aryan took the pouch, feeling the satisfying weight of the coins. He gave a slight nod, pocketed the poison sac, and turned to leave. The crowd parted for him, a silent corridor opening through the boisterous hall. He had walked in as a boy running a dirty errand he was walking out as a colleague.
He found Raghunath waiting anxiously, the old man's face etched with worry in the faint light of a nearby lantern. When he saw Aryan approaching, alive and whole, a profound look of relief washed over his features.
"You... you did it?" Raghunath stammered.
Aryan handed him the rusty iron key. "The cellar is clear."
The old man fumbled in his pouch and produced a handful of coins. "One and a half gold, as promised. Thank you, young man.
Thank you. You've lifted a curse from my family's legacy."
Aryan accepted the final payment, bringing his total earnings to fifteen gold coins. It was a small fortune for a family like his. Without another word, he turned and disappeared into the darkened streets, leaving the old man staring at the key to his reclaimed property.
It was late when he finally reached the Rathore family compound. The house was dark, save for a single lantern burning in the main room.
Everyone was likely asleep. He moved quietly, his steps light, intending to slip into his room unnoticed. He didn't want to explain his tattered clothes or his late return.
He was just about to reach his door when a low voice stopped him.
"Where were you?"
Aryan froze. He turned to see his father, Vikram, sitting at the main table, the lantern light casting sharp shadows across his stern face. He wasn't yelling. He was sitting perfectly still, his back straight, a posture Aryan associated with deep contemplation, not anger. The lantern light cast shadows across his face, making his expression impossible to read, but there was a deep, unreadable intensity in his eyes.
"I went for a walk," Aryan replied, his voice flat.
Vikram's gaze dropped to Aryan's ruined trousers, to the angry red welts on his skin that were still visible, and to the faint, dark stains that the well water hadn't been able to completely wash away.
"Your walk took you into a fight," Vikram stated. It wasn't a question.
Aryan remained silent. There was no point in lying to a veteran cultivator whose senses were far sharper than a normal person's.
Vikram rose and walked over to him. He didn't scold him. He just looked at him, his gaze searching, analytical. He could feel the change in his son's Qi. It was depleted, showing signs of heavy use, but the current within was stronger, more stable than it had been that morning. It was the aura of a warrior who had been tempered in the forge of real combat.
"You are different, Aryan," Vikram said, his voice quiet but firm. "This enlightenment of yours... it didn't just heal you. It has forged you into something new. Something sharper."
He placed a heavy hand on Aryan's shoulder. "I will not ask you for your secrets. Every cultivator has them. But know this: as long as your strength is used to protect this family and bring it honor, you will have my full support."
He pressed a small, heavy pouch into Aryan's hand. "Your brother, Rohan, is at the 7th layer of the Qi Condensation Realm. He has been stuck there for half a year. The resources I gave you this morning were to help you catch up.
These," he said, his voice lowering, "are to help you surpass him. The Azure Dragon Academy does not accept mediocrity."
Vikram turned and walked to his room, leaving Aryan alone in the lantern light. Aryan opened the pouch. Inside were not ten, but twenty low-grade Spirit Stones, and a small, intricately carved jade bottle. He uncorked it and sniffed. The potent, medicinal aroma of a mid-grade Body Tempering Pill filled his senses.
It was a resource far more valuable than all the Spirit Stones combined, a treasure his father must have been saving for a desperate moment.
Aryan closed the pouch. His mind, which had coldly processed combat data and mission parameters, struggled to categorize this new input. The weight of the pouch was measurable. The value of the pill was known. But the weight of his father's gaze... that was a new variable. It wasn't a burden, as the old Aryan might have felt. It was an investment.
A resource. And perhaps the most powerful one he had received all day.
He went to his room, the silence of the house a comforting blanket. He sat on his bed, the spoils of his day laid out before him: the coins, the poison sac, the Spirit Stones, the pill. And in his mind, the greatest prize of all: 1,265 SP and the knowledge of a new, lethal technique.
He looked at the system's recommendation to refine his 'Void Piercer'. 300 SP. It was a price he was now more than willing to pay. The path forward was clear. He would cultivate, refine his skills, and grow stronger. The Academy was the goal, but it was just one step on a much longer journey. Tonight, he had taken the first, bloody step. And he was ready for the next.