The air in the Star Sanctuary was so cold it felt solid, each breath a blade of ice in the lungs. The silence was heavier than the river's roar, a weight that listened. The floor was a mosaic of intricate glyphs, pulsing with that familiar, faintly asynchronous rhythm. Li Tian's name-glyph on his wrist tingled in response. The ring warmed once, a silent nudge.
"Step on the lull, not the glow."
He understood. It was an extension of the breathing lesson. He tested, placing his weight on a glyph only as it dimmed to its lowest point, lifting his foot as it began to brighten. The first time he mistimed it, pulling away a fraction too slow, a needle of cold energy shot up his calf. He didn't flinch; he spiral-bled it into the floor, the pain a sharp, efficient lesson. Spend only what returns.
The fore-chamber was a narrow, rib-vaulted corridor. As he moved with the cadence, a familiar threat emerged. A Rune Sentinel, a rectangular tablet of humming sigils, detached from the wall. Here, there was no room to maneuver. It hovered, gathering energy for a concussive wave that would fill the entire passage.
There was no dodging. Only enduring.
At the moment of release, Li Tian met the wave with a pinpoint devour in his palm. The energy was a hammer of frozen lightning. His fingertips went numb, then burned with a thousand prickling needles. A metallic taste flooded his mouth, and he coughed, a speck of blood dotting his lip. But he'd survived. He used the Sentinel's momentary pause to charge forward, slamming it against a sharp, carved rib in the wall. While it vibrated from the impact, he struck not its center, but a smaller, flickering sigil on its edge. The complex pattern shattered with a sound like breaking glass, and the Sentinel dissolved into bitter, ash-cold motes.
He was already moving, spiral-bleeding the remnant agony as he entered the main hall. Devour small. Refine clean. Live.
The main hall was vast, its ceiling lost in darkness. A blade-rune fan, a circle of interconnected, glowing sigils sharpened to a razor's edge, circled the room like a patient hawk. Its path was unpredictable, tracing cold, lethal arcs through the air. The floor here was even more treacherous, with sections of glyphs tilting subtly, trying to break his hard-won cadence.
He focused, implementing what he now thought of as the Vein Step—light feet touching only on the lull—and the Star Lung—a controlled, two-count exhale as the light rose. The fan dove. He ducked behind a stalagmite-like formation of condensed light; the fan's edge screeched against it, shearing off a shard. He couldn't rely on cover forever.
On its next pass, the fan feinted high, then swung low, aiming for his ankles. There was no rock to block it. He twisted, and on the lethal instant, opened a thread-thin devour along his forearm where the blade would strike. The contact was a searing cold that hooked deep into the muscle, threatening permanent numbness. He spiral-bled it instantly, his arm feeling like dead weight for a moment before sensation slowly, painfully returned.
"You run well."
The voice was soft, polite, and came from the entrance. The robed silhouette stood there, a fresh blade talisman glowing in its hand. Before Li Tian could react, the intruder flicked the talisman downward. It didn't aim for him; it sliced across a major vein of glyphs on the floor. The entire section between them flared with a hostile, bright white light, cutting off Li Tian's path to the entrance and forcing him toward the center of the room, where the blade-rune fan circled most fiercely.
Cornered, Li Tian had no choice but to perfect his timing. Two passes of the fan, two sequences of perfect Vein Steps and Star Lung breaths. He noticed a slight difference—the backlash from the environment felt a hair's breadth thinner, the meridian sting less severe when his rhythm was flawless. It wasn't more power. It was less waste. A micro-efficiency born of absolute discipline.
As if in response to his synchronization, the simple stone altar at the room's center began to hum. A bridge of pure, spiraling starlight unfurled from its base, descending into a glowing shaft in the floor—a path deeper down.
The intruder saw it too. With a casual flick, another talisman activated. This one didn't cut; it awakened. The guardian lines on the walls flared, and from them peeled sleek, hound-like constructs of condensed light, their eyes burning with cold fire. They turned first toward the intruder, then, sensing the deeper violation, toward Li Tian.
He was trapped between the waking hounds and the mysterious bridge, a killer at his back.
The Sanctuary opened a path—and loosed its hounds.