Mohit couldn't sleep that night.
His body felt calm, but his mind refused to settle. Every time he closed his eyes, the image of the frightened boy in the warehouse replayed in his thoughts. The uncontrolled energy… the panic… the sudden awakening.
Too early, Mohit thought.
Human bodies weren't meant to handle spiritual energy without preparation. If more awakenings happened like this, chaos would follow.
He sat cross-legged on his bed and slowly entered cultivation.
The familiar weakness greeted him — energy flowing backward instead of strengthening his core. The reverse cultivation defect continued to drain him gently, like sand slipping through fingers.
Yet tonight felt… different.
A faint warmth stirred near his chest.
Mohit focused his awareness there.
A tiny vibration pulsed quietly, almost like a heartbeat that wasn't his own. It wasn't power — not yet — but something deeper. A resonance.
The memory of guiding the boy's breathing surfaced in his mind.
Understanding flashed through him.
His energy had responded to connection, not force.
Instead of pulling energy inward, Mohit allowed it to circulate outward slightly — imagining the same calm rhythm he had taught earlier.
The vibration stabilized.
For the first time in years, the draining sensation slowed.
Mohit's eyes widened.
It wasn't a cure.
But it was a direction.
A hidden path.
He carefully maintained the rhythm, afraid to disturb the fragile balance. The warmth remained steady for several minutes before slowly fading.
Sweat dampened his forehead.
Even this small adjustment demanded heavy concentration.
Still, hope sparked quietly inside him.
If connection could stabilize his cultivation…
Then maybe growth didn't need brute strength.
The next morning, Mohit walked into school with sharper awareness.
The corridors felt noisier than usual — laughter, footsteps, chatter — but beneath it all, faint energy fluctuations lingered. Not strong enough for normal students to notice, but clear to him.
Awakenings were spreading.
During lunch break, Mohit sensed a familiar signature.
The boy from the warehouse stood near the water cooler, his hands nervously stuffed into his pockets.
Their eyes met.
Recognition flashed across the boy's face.
He hesitated — then approached.
"Hey… you're the one from last night, right?"
Mohit nodded slightly. "You feeling okay?"
"Yeah… mostly," the boy said. "It's gone quiet inside… but sometimes I still feel it moving."
"That's normal," Mohit replied calmly. "Just keep breathing steady. Don't force anything."
The boy relaxed slightly. "Thanks. Seriously… you saved me."
Mohit felt the faint warmth pulse again inside his chest.
The hidden echo responded.
A quiet confirmation.
As the bell rang, Mohit realized something important.
He wasn't just surviving anymore.
He was becoming a bridge.
And bridges always attract attention — both good and dangerous.