THE CRIPPLED SON-IN-LAW UNLOCKED IMMORTAL CULTIVATION

Chapter 6: The Man Who Could See Through Me

I spent the night listening to the guards outside my door and trying to make the current inside me disappear.

Every time I slowed my breathing, the energy settled beneath my ribs; every time a footstep crossed the corridor, it stirred again, responding to my unease like a creature that could smell fear. By dawn, I understood that hiding my power would take more than pretending to be weak.

The primordial entity guided me through the same exercise until my legs ached from sitting still. It offered no secret technique, only a warning that I had not yet learned to separate my feelings from the energy feeding on them.

“Then teach me something useful before Shen arrives,” I muttered.

“Your impatience is useful to me,” it replied. “It makes the current stronger.”

“That isn’t the same as helping.”

I stopped the exercise before anger could pull the energy upward. Master Shen had been summoned to examine me, not to fight me, and I would gain nothing by letting an unknown power make decisions on my behalf. If I wanted to survive inside the Zhao estate, I had to learn when not to use what I had gained.

A knock came after sunrise. The guard outside announced that breakfast had been sent up, then watched me eat as if I might hide a weapon in the bowl. The food was warm, but I barely tasted it. Grandfather Zhao had placed me under guard because he suspected the ritual had revealed something he could not control. I needed to know what Master Shen had been told before he began testing me.

Crystal arrived while the guard carried away the tray. She brought a jar of medicine and a folded cloth, keeping her voice low enough that the man in the corridor would hear only a quiet conversation.

“My grandfather told Shen to find out whether you sabotaged the ritual,” she said. “He also wants to know if your condition has changed.”

“Did you find the old records?”

“Not the oldest ones. The family keeps them in a locked archive, and only my grandfather and two elders have access.” Her gaze dropped to the jar in her hands. “I did find references to earlier ceremonies. They were held away from the main hall, with fewer witnesses and stricter orders to keep quiet.”

“So this wasn’t the first time they used someone like me.”

“I can’t prove that yet.” She looked up, and I saw the strain she was trying to hide. “I’ll find the records.”

“You’ll be putting yourself in danger.”

“I’ve spent years telling myself that staying quiet was the only way to protect anyone. I won’t keep doing that.”

I wanted to believe the promise, but trust could not be restored in a morning. I took the medicine and told her to be careful, not because everything between us was forgiven, but because I did not want her to become another victim of the family that had nearly killed me. She seemed to understand the difference and left without asking for reassurance.

The guards escorted me to a private room on the estate’s eastern side. Master Shen stood beside a table covered with instruments: a clear crystal disc, a bronze bowl etched with narrow lines, and several slender needles resting on a dark cloth. He wore a plain grey suit, and his expression was calm without being friendly. Grandfather Zhao sat near the window with one elder, prepared to watch every movement.

“Sit wherever you’re comfortable,” Shen said. “I need to hear what you remember, not what you think I want to hear.”

I sat opposite him, keeping my hands on my knees. He asked me to describe the ritual from the moment I was placed on the altar. I told him about the blade, the pressure in my chest, and the sudden collapse of the stone. I did not mention the energy I had redirected or the voice that had spoken inside my mind.

“Did you feel anything before the altar broke?” he asked.

“Pain, mostly. Then the floor shook.”

“Did the energy move through your body?”

“I don’t know what that would feel like.”

Shen watched me for a moment, as though he were deciding whether the answer was honest or merely convenient. Unlike the Zhao elders, he did not laugh at my shattered roots or treat my ignorance as proof of stupidity. That made him harder to read, not easier.

He examined the wound on my chest, then placed two fingers against my wrist. A faint pressure spread beneath my skin as he tested my pulse and directed energy through his fingertips. I kept the current inside me still, but the foreign energy brushed against the bond, and the warmth beneath my ribs tightened.

Shen withdrew his hand and lifted the crystal disc. “Your roots remain damaged. That much is clear. But there’s a trace here that doesn’t fit the injury.”

Grandfather Zhao leaned forward. “What does it mean?”

“It means the ritual sent energy into him, but something redirected part of it before it could finish its work. I can’t say what that something was.”

The patriarch’s eyes returned to me. I kept my face blank, though the pressure in the room had become difficult to ignore. If Shen continued probing, the bond might react again, and neither of us knew what it would do.

The specialist placed the crystal disc on the table and asked me to rest my palm over it. A thin line of light appeared beneath the surface, then faded. He adjusted one of the bronze instruments and tried again. This time, the disc gave a weak pulse before turning dull.

“You’re hiding something,” Grandfather Zhao said.

“I’m hiding nothing I understand,” I replied. “If I knew why I survived, I would have told you before you brought in a specialist.”

The patriarch’s mouth tightened, but Shen raised a hand before he could answer. “Let me finish the examination.”

He drew a narrow stream of energy from the bronze bowl toward my palm. It felt like cold water running over a burn, and the current inside me surged in response. The entity urged me to crush the instrument and end the test, but I refused to give it control. I breathed slowly, looking for the place where the two energies met, then guided the hidden current downward through my arm.

The floor beneath my chair gave a soft tremor. The bronze bowl rang once, and the light in the crystal disc twisted into a dark thread before disappearing. I kept my hand still until the pressure eased, though sweat had begun to gather at the back of my neck.

Shen immediately lifted the bowl away. He studied the marks on its rim, then looked at my hand rather than my face.

“That’s enough for today,” he said.

Grandfather Zhao rose from his chair. “You cannot stop now. Did you find a cultivation base?”

“No stable base, and no ordinary flow through his damaged roots. But something responded when I introduced energy. The result is inconsistent, and forcing another test could damage him without telling us more.”

“Are you saying he has a hidden technique?”

“I’m saying I don’t know yet.” Shen closed the case around his instruments. “I need the ritual records and time to compare the readings.”

Grandfather Zhao clearly disliked being given an answer he could not use, but he allowed the specialist to leave the room. Before following him, the patriarch warned me to remain available for further examination. His tone made it clear that my cooperation was no longer a request.

Shen lingered after the others had gone. He closed the door, then turned toward me with a look that was neither friendly nor accusing.

“Your spiritual roots are damaged, but the energy I detected didn’t behave like anything produced by a conventional technique,” he said. “Have you ever heard of a cultivation method that doesn’t rely on spiritual roots?”

My pulse tightened, though I kept my face still. “No. Is there one?”

“There are stories,” he replied. “Most cultivators dismiss them because they threaten everything they believe about power. I don’t know whether those stories are true, but something happened to you that the usual rules cannot explain.”

He picked up his case and opened the door. Before leaving, he glanced back at me.

“People who awaken a path like that rarely stay hidden for long. If you discover what’s happening inside you, be careful who you tell.”

Then he walked away, leaving me alone with the question he had planted. The entity remained silent, and I could not tell whether Master Shen had offered a warning or set a trap. For the first time since the cave, I wondered whether someone outside the Zhao family might understand my power and whether understanding it would make him more dangerous than the people who wanted me dead.