His two companions snickered, their auras flaring with undisciplined pride. They were all at the 6th Layer of the Qi Condensation Realm, a respectable level for their age, and they clearly believed it made them the kings of this small room.
Aryan didn't look up. He slowly refilled his small teacup, his movements calm and deliberate. "The teahouse is large. There are other seats."
The leader's face flushed with anger at the quiet dismissal.
"Are you deaf? I said, get out." He reached out a hand, intending to sweep Aryan's tea set from the table
.
He never touched it.
Aryan didn't move a muscle. He didn't flare his Qi. He didn't even raise his head. He simply lifted his gaze from his teacup and looked at the boy.
And in that moment, he unveiled himself.
It wasn't a wave of Qi the boy felt, but a sudden, absolute cold. The noisy teahouse vanished, replaced by the silence of a dark jungle. He was no longer a proud cultivator; he was prey. He could feel the cold breath of a Shadow Cat on his neck, see the final, merciless charge of an Iron-Skinned Boar in his mind's eye. The boy before him wasn't a boy; he was the embodiment of a successful hunt, a creature that didn't fight, but simply ended things.
The air around the table instantly grew frigid. The smug look on the leader's face froze, then melted into slack-jawed terror. His outstretched hand stopped, trembling, inches from the table. To his senses, the boy before him had vanished, replaced by an ancient, blood-soaked predator whose eyes promised a swift and merciless death. The boy's two companions, who had been laughing a moment before, stumbled back. One of them dropped his newly-purchased sword, the clang of steel on the floor deafening in the sudden silence. Their faces were pale, their own Qi flickering and dying like a candle in a gale.
They felt a primal, instinctual fear that screamed at them to run, to hide, to submit.
The entire teahouse had fallen silent. Every cultivator in the room, from the weakest 5th Layer to the strongest 8th Layer of the Qi Condensation Realm, had felt the sudden, oppressive chill. They all turned to stare, their conversations forgotten, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and disbelief.
Aryan held the boy's gaze for three seconds, the silence stretching into an eternity. Then, he looked back down at his teacup, the oppressive aura vanishing as if it had never been. The connection was severed.
The arrogant young master staggered back as if he'd been physically struck, gasping for breath. He looked at Aryan, then at his two terrified companions, and then at the silent, staring faces of everyone in the teahouse.
Without another word, he turned and practically fled the establishment, his friends scrambling after him.
Aryan took a slow, deliberate sip of his tea, the picture of unconcerned calm. Test successful. A non-physical deterrent had been deployed, establishing a perimeter of non-interference. Desired result achieved.
He finished his tea, left a few copper coins on the table, and walked out, the crowd parting for him like water around a stone. He found a small, clean inn and secured a room for the next week, the innkeeper's respectful bow a stark contrast to the disdainful glance he might have received an hour earlier.
From his window, he looked down at the bustling streets of Veridia. He was surrounded by thousands, yet he felt a profound and complete solitude. It was not loneliness.
It was the calm, detached isolation of a predator who had found himself in a field of noisy, oblivious sheep. And he knew, with a chilling certainty, that some of those sheep were wearing wolves' clothing. He had one week. One week to perform his final calibrations, to sharpen his blade to its ultimate keenness. The trial in the jungle was just the beginning. The real test, he knew, would be navigating the dangerous, unpredictable world of men.