The First Transformation
The runes on the walls pulsed one final time, then dimmed into a steady, silent heartbeat of faint light. Yet Karma didn't stir. His eyes remained closed, his breath even, his body lost in a trance.
Inside him, energy surged. What began as a single thread grew into streams, then rivers, then a flood that filled every corner of his being. His body resisted at first—muscles trembled, bones strained, skin burned as though stretched to breaking—but instead of collapsing, his mortal shell adapted. With each second, it reshaped itself, learned to endure, and clung to life with stubborn resolve.
Time slipped by unnoticed. His hunger vanished, his hearing sharpened, and the darkness around him seemed clearer. Mira, quiet within him, clenched her little fists. She longed to say something, but held back. If she disturbed him now, all of this could collapse. Better to wait. Better to let him take everything he could, and when his body was done, she would take her share.
Hours passed. His absorption didn't slow—it only grew faster, more ravenous. What began as healing soon transformed into something more profound. His veins widened, carrying power like rivers. His lungs filled with new air, his blood turned heavy and rich, and his muscles condensed into hard, lean strength.
And then the purge began.
Karma's body shook violently as foul black liquid oozed from his pores. The stench spread through the chamber like a rotting tide. It wasn't sweat—it was poison. The filth of twenty-five years of mortal weakness was forced out in sticky torrents. His hair fell in clumps, his skin cracked and peeled away. Beneath, fresh flesh gleamed pale and smooth, faintly radiant under the dim glow. His bones shuddered, reshaping, his features sharpening into symmetry. Even his very marrow hummed with newfound strength.
The flood of energy tore through him until there was nothing left to purge. Then, like a tide receding, it settled. His skin gleamed faintly, his long hair regrew in a rush, black and straight, tumbling down to his elbows. His body glowed with vitality. A mortal no longer bound to weakness. Not yet a cultivator, but something in-between.
At last, his eyes opened. He inhaled deeply, filling lungs that felt as though they had never known fragility. Mira's childish voice trembled with pride. "…Master, you really did it."
A New Perspective
For a moment, a faint smile tugged at his lips. Then the smell hit him. He gagged, horrified to see himself coated in layers of tar-like sludge. "Ugh! What is that?! I need water! Soap! Anything!"
Desperately, he searched the chamber, stumbling from wall to wall, but found nothing. No basin, no pool, not even a trickle of water. Nearly an hour later, exhausted and sick from the stench, he discovered a narrow exit and rushed toward it, praying for something, anything, to clean himself.
Two guards stood outside. Their expressions twisted the instant he appeared, the smell striking them like a physical blow. Karma flailed his arms, pointing at himself, miming washing, his hands clasped together desperately. "Water! Please! Clothes!"
The guards only frowned. To them, his words were nonsense. One pinched his nose and muttered in irritation, "What is this mortal babbling? Why hasn't he been dealt with already?" The other spat to the side, shaking his head. "Don't touch him. The Young Lady brought him back herself. Until she gives orders, we endure." Their contempt was obvious, but neither dared lift a hand against him.
The Confrontation
Far above the prison, the Su Family estate glittered in the moonlight. At its center stood the Moonstone Palace, carved from translucent stone that drank starlight and glowed softly. Bridges arched over pools of lotus that bloomed year-round, petals shimmering with spiritual dew. Spirit lamps lit jade-carved corridors, filling the air with a fragrance that never faded.
Su Liana sat in her private hall, draped on a high-backed jade chair, her robes flowing like rivers of snow. Her phoenix eyes were cool, her aura untouchable, her beauty sharp enough to wound. Yet her thoughts were restless. She could not forget the mortal she had dragged here, the man mistaken for her brother. She had expected anger, curses, desperate pleas. Instead, he had remained unconscious, silent as stone.
Her maids entered and bowed deeply. "Young Lady," one whispered, "the mortal you brought back… he is shouting. And… he smells. The guards cannot endure it."
Su Liana's brow arched. "Smells?"
The maid's head lowered further. "Yes, my Lady. They await your command."
With a quiet sigh, Su Liana rose, her sleeves whispering across the polished floor. So… he finally wakes. Will he curse me? Beg me to return him? The thought pricked her chest with guilt. She had stolen him from his world. She owed him, even if he would never forgive her.
But when she descended into the prison, she found not fury. Not despair. Not even accusation.
The mortal dropped to his knees the instant he saw her. His long black hair clung to his face, his skin drenched in sludge. The stench was unbearable, yet his eyes burned with urgency.
"Water!" he begged, miming scrubbing motions, his hands clasped desperately. "Please… water, clothes…"
Su Liana paused. For a long moment, she said nothing. She had braced herself for curses, for hatred. But this? Just the simplest, most human request. Her eyes lingered, and for the first time, she noticed. Beneath the filth, his face had changed. His features were sharper, his skin faintly luminous, his presence… different. Even she, raised among cultivators whose beauty often transcended mortals, felt a flicker of surprise.
Without a word, she gestured to her servants. Buckets of water were hauled in, white robes brought forward. For hours, the mortal scrubbed himself, stripping away the filth until clean skin gleamed beneath. His new garments draped across him, plain but dignified. When at last he stood, his long hair tied back loosely, his face bright and steady, he looked reborn.
Not the weary, broken youth she had carried from Earth. Someone new. Someone sharper. Someone alive with hidden strength.
He bowed slightly. "Thank you." She did not understand his words, but sincerity needed no translation.
He met her gaze with an unyielding clarity she had never seen on a mortal's face. She paused, her phoenix eyes widening almost imperceptibly as she felt a jolt of recognition, an unspoken understanding passing between them. He was not the broken youth she had brought here. He was something new, a will as sharp as her own.
Karma clenched his fists silently. He would not beg her to send him back. If it was impossible, so be it. Now that he could cultivate, he would grow strong enough to return to Earth on his own. Strong enough to find his sister. For the first time since his abduction, his resolve burned steady, unshakable.
And Su Liana, watching him with unreadable eyes, felt her chest tighten. Why did this mortal feel so different now?
Neither spoke again. But in that silence, a thread bound them—hers woven with guilt, his with determination. Two paths, already crossing.