Chapter 6 – The Hidden Spark
The return to the surface wasn't triumphant—it was silent.
Ashen emerged from the depths of the ruin under the waning moonlight, his robes dust-covered and torn, his expression blank. No one saw his slow, steady footsteps as he climbed the cracked stairways of the forgotten chamber. The ruin above was deserted. Not even the echo of footsteps remained.
They had left him.
Left him to die.
Ashen didn't rage. He didn't cry. The weight of betrayal was buried deep—sealed under layers of focus he'd forged during years of solitary cultivation. Still, it etched itself into the corner of his soul like a scar.
They had made a choice.
So would he.
He walked back toward the academy on foot, avoiding the main roads. His thoughts were sharper than ever, as if a new clarity had settled into him since the merge. And beneath the surface of his calm demeanor, something watched—a presence within him, silent and eternal.
The dragon soul.
It didn't speak in words. It had no voice. But its memory… its instinct… shaped how he moved, how he breathed, how he now observed the world.
And his first decision as the new Ashen?
Silence. No one could know what happened below. Not yet.
When he returned to the outer gates of the academy, the guards nearly dropped their spears in surprise.
"You—Ashen?!" one stammered. "You were—lost. Declared missing after the ruin trip—"
"I got separated. Found another exit." His voice was calm. Too calm.
They bought it.
By morning, the news had spread like wildfire. Ashen, the nobody, the quiet cultivator who barely spoke unless questioned, had somehow survived a dangerous ruin. Alone. Injured. Without guidance or backup.
Most students scoffed. A few whispered. But two people frowned.
One of them was Dairon Vale, a senior disciple and one of the group leaders from the expedition. The other was Lyra Chen, a noble-blooded genius whose family had vested interest in the ruins. Both had left Ashen behind.
And both were certain he shouldn't have returned.
Ashen sat quietly in the classroom that morning, listening to the instructor discuss intermediate qi flow redirection. His desk was near the window—same as always. His appearance hadn't changed, save for the faint gleam in his eyes when he watched the instructor draw qi formations in the air.
He understood them now.
Not because he was smarter. Not because he'd studied harder.
But because his comprehension had accelerated unnaturally. Ideas once locked behind walls of confusion now flowed freely. He could see the gaps in the formation's design. He could predict the instructor's next sentence before it was spoken.
And he kept quiet.
During the break, he pulled a tattered scroll from his satchel and unrolled it: Forbidden Flow Reversal Technique—a discarded, partially erased script once deemed too inefficient for practical use.
Before the merge, it made no sense to him. The flow nodes collapsed midway, and the qi redirection was dangerous, often rupturing the user's own veins.
Now?
He traced the lines with his finger. "Node six fails because the energy loop isn't isolated…" he murmured, almost in a trance. "If I insert a secondary guide here…"
He modified it mentally. Slowly. Carefully.
When his roommate entered the dorm that evening, Ashen was already seated in lotus position, breathing slowly. His cultivation wasn't explosive. It didn't glow. But the qi around him was calm and dense, swirling like smoke around a still lake.
His soul was changing.
And he could feel the sealed abilities of the dragon resting deep within, waiting.
That night, he tested his theory. Using only a trickle of qi, he performed a simplified version of the Flow Reversal on his own left hand. If it failed, he'd shatter the meridians near his wrist.
But he knew it wouldn't.
The technique activated. Qi reversed—briefly—before stabilizing in a loop. His fingers twitched. Then pulsed. A faint glow shimmered at the tips.
Success.
He smiled faintly. "Comprehension boost… confirmed."
But he also understood the danger now. With this ability, he could learn techniques far beyond his current realm. He could accelerate faster than geniuses. But if he revealed even a hint of that, he'd be dissected. Questioned. Feared.
So again… he chose silence.
---
Elsewhere, in the inner courtyard of the Vale clan estate, Dairon knelt before a communication mirror. The image was hazy but powerful.
"You say the boy survived?" came the distorted voice on the other end.
"Yes. Ashen Aras. Commoner. Quiet. Weak. Until now."
The figure on the other end was silent for a long moment. Then: "You were warned to make sure it looked like an accident. No signs. No questions."
Dairon bowed lower. "He hasn't spoken. He's acting normal."
"No one survives a fall into the lower chambers of that ruin, Dairon. Not without help. And if he came in contact with the seal… it means the bloodline prophecy may have been real."
Dairon's breath caught. "Then we should eliminate him now—"
"No. Watch him. Observe. If he awakens anything… report immediately. But do not engage. Not yet."
The mirror went dark.
And far away, in his silent room, Ashen opened his eyes—his dragon-merged soul pulsing once with ancient intuition.
He had no proof.
But something told him… he was being watched.
And the path ahead would not allow peace for long.
---
Cliffhanger Preview (for Chapter 7):
Ashen receives an invitation to a small inter-class cultivation sparring event. He accepts, choosing to observe his enemies from up close. But one student notices something strange in Ashen's stance—something no beginner should know.